


Adventures of the Soul

by HallowedNight



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Kind of AU, M/M, slow building romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/pseuds/HallowedNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey to save Erebor is over, but poor Bilbo is far from happy; it seems keeping his feelings for a certain Dwarf-prince hidden away wasn't such a good idea after all. The opportunity for redemption appears one day in the form of none other than Gandalf the Grey, bringing with him an unexpected companion and the promise of adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Time's Unforgotten Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters or settings; I don't own anything, it all belongs to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. (If I thought of this stuff, I would worship myself.)
> 
> This was my first Hobbit fanfiction... I've been working on it for about four months now.
> 
> This is set after the actual story; Bilbo is home, and quite unhappy. That will change soon enough, however; but you'll have to keep watch to see what happens. c: (Though the summary kind of gives it away...) Anyway, without farther adieu, here it is. I hope you like it~

A quiet, unhappy sigh slipped through Bilbo Baggins's lips as his soft blue eyes drifted from the uneaten plate of food before him to the quaint, circular window beside his table. The window framed a seemingly monochrome sunset partially hidden by an oppressive fog that had recently rolled into Bag End. It had begun to rain several hours earlier, blending the minutes together into an unending train of boredom for the young Hobbit; a perfect time for him to wallow in his remorse and sorrow.

Since returning from his long journey with Thorin and his company, Bilbo had been quite the opposite of his usual innocent, happy-go-lucky self. He had taken to locking himself away in his hole and avoiding any contact with the outside world, choosing instead to cast his thoughts backwards, back to his grand adventure. Those months had been by far the hardest, most grueling and terrifying months of his life, and yet he could think of nothing he would have rather been doing in that time. He had gained more than he could ever have hoped for; experience and skills he wouldn't trade for the world, courage to conquer any foe, friendships that would last for ages to come, and, possibly, something a little more…something Bilbo wouldn't admit to, wouldn't think about and undoubtedly would not act upon. At least, that's what the poor Hobbit had thought as he left the newly revitalized Kingdom of Erebor.

Now however, weeks after returning home, Bilbo thoroughly regretted his decision to keep certain feelings about a certain member of the Dwarven company to himself. Bilbo was quite sure the King Under the Mountain was getting along just fine without a useless Hobbit trailing him and the other Dwarves around in their own kingdom, but this did nothing to ease the nagging doubt in his mind or throbbing ache in his chest. There was no will to do anything anymore, and nothing held his attention for long; he was always drawn back to his journey, and the many moments held in his heart that he couldn't shake away. The look on the Dwarf's face when Erebor had finally been reclaimed; watching the King Under the Mountain sit upon his throne for the first time in many, many years; the moment when Bilbo had first seen the Dwarf.

A raw, choked laugh ripped from the Hobbit's throat as he pushed his chair back from his unfinished dinner. Thorin had been late, that night so many months ago. Time, it seemed, was of no matter to Bilbo anymore; everything seemed so long ago, yet perfectly preserved, untouched in a chest of gold, and locked away in his own dragon-guarded heart. Yes, the Dwarf had been late, and quite an entrance he had made. Thorin's first words to Bilbo had been an insult, the Hobbit remembered. It seemed funny now, in an odd sort of way.

_The little Hobbit had been in quite the sour mood, and with good reason; having your house invaded by hungry Dwarves was most certainly not the most pleasant experience one could wish for. Everything was going to the dogs, and there seemed to be no end in sight, until Thorin made his entrance. This new addition to the troupe of Dwarves seemed at least to be able to control them, and Bilbo was thankful that all he required for supper was a small bowl of stew. However, it seemed the Dwarf had no good words on Bilbo's behalf, and the Hobbit was just as fed up with him as all the rest in good time. But just as he was lying down for some much needed rest, Bilbo heard the singing._

_He remembered every step to the small den where Thorin was standing over the fire; he could recall with perfect precision every dip and waver in the Dwarf's haunting voice as he began to sing of his peoples' past. But most of all, Bilbo remembered Thorin's eyes; deep blue wells of memory and feeling, opened to the world by emotion that seeped forth from a place in Thorin rarely bared to the light. Even as the other Dwarves began to join the song, the Hobbit's eyes stayed on Thorin, unable to look away from those bottomless orbs; he felt he could slip into those unfathomable wells and fall for all eternity, watching scraps of the Dwarf's heart and soul fly by. It seemed quite an appealing notion, in fact, to keep those gems all to himself, to hide them away where he could lose himself in them whenever he wanted, to peel back the many layers that Thorin had built up around his inner soul in all his years of hatred and loss. In that moment, there was nothing the Hobbit wanted more than to take away the Dwarf's pain and suffering, if only for a moment, just to get a glimpse of the pure, raw essence of Thorin, and the power, strength and sentiment he was sure was concealed there. Bilbo had known Thorin for only a few hours, but already the mystery of the Dwarf-prince's soul had captured his heart._

Lost in his thoughts, Bilbo hadn't noticed where his furry Hobbit feet were taking him; he now found himself kneeled beside his bed, a large, fur-lined coat clenched in a death grip to his chest. He drew a ragged breath and curled up in a small ball, allowing himself to flop awkwardly onto the floor. Soft fur caressed his face and carried with it a familiar scent; the smell of pine trees and cold nighttime wind, bright summer days and the deep, rich scent of living earth. A painful sob racked the Hobbit's petite frame, and large tears began to roll down his cheeks, only to be lost in the fur held to his nose as he savored Thorin's scent and cursed himself for not telling the Dwarf-king how he felt. All he had wanted was to see the Dwarf's heart and soul, to give the king some reason to open himself to him, and he couldn't open his own mind to Thorin. At the moment it mattered, Bilbo couldn't give what he himself wanted most, and now the thoughts of what he had lost were slowly killing him.


	2. Unexpected Visitors

Bilbo's eyes felt like they had been filled with sand as they cracked open and immediately squinted against the early morning sunlight. This, the Hobbit had found, was the one downside to having windows in your bedroom. It was quite nice to be woken up by happy sunshine some days, but others, like this particular morning, Bilbo would rather have stayed curled up in a neat little ball on the floor for several more hours. However, once he was awake the Hobbit simply couldn't get back to sleep, so he stretched his cramped legs and sat up slowly. Leaning against the bed behind him, he closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, yawning widely as his body and mind began to awake.

Waking up was definitely not a Hobbit's favorite time of day, so it was several minutes before Bilbo had gathered himself enough to stand and survey the little nest he had made for himself. Thorin's coat, which was quite big enough to act as a blanket for the Hobbit, was bunched on the floor halfway under the bed, its bulk augmented by the rug, which Bilbo had apparently pulled around himself as well. Seeing this little mess, Bilbo snatched up the coat and buried his face in it; the smell was still there, as strong as before. A small smile graced the Hobbit's face as he folded the coat neatly and placed it in the chest at the end of his bed. He then straightened out the rug and took a deep breath, debating whether or not to climb into bed and sleep a few more hours. Deciding against this, he went to his dresser and pulled out some fresh clothes; he had worn his day clothes to bed, a horrible practice, as it wrinkled the poor clothes most dreadfully.

Sighing remorsefully at the state of his nice waistcoat and breeches, Bilbo peeled them off and replaced them, choosing to leave a bath until later that day. He had, after all, taken one the previous morning; the little Hobbit had begun to quite enjoy baths, as they let him relax completely and soak away any negative feelings he may have been having that day.

The Hobbit then took his dirty clothes and made his way to the bathroom. As it was a rather lazy morning, he dropped the clothes on top of the closed hamper and made a mental note to do laundry later that day before washing his face and hands. The water was cold and refreshing, as the bathroom had gotten quite chilly during the night. Feeling revitalized, Bilbo then walked out to his kitchen to prepare breakfast, sighing once again as his eyes fell on the remains of the previous night's supper.

'I really have been letting myself go… Good gracious, look at the state of the pantry!' A slightly aghast expression flitted over Bilbo's face as he passed the pantry; it was nearly empty (by a Hobbit's standards), and there were at least two wheels of cheese that seemed rather moldy. 'Oh well… I suppose I'll have to go to the market today and restock.'

For some reason, Bilbo was feeling very good this particular moment; it had been quite some time since he had had the motivation to make a decent breakfast, let alone do any cleaning. A small smile wormed its way onto the Hobbit's face as he began to wash the dirty dishes. Perhaps he was on the mend, and this morning was just the beginning of a whole new outlook on life.

Just as he was about to dry the dishes and put them away, Bilbo heard a sound he had not heard in a very long time; a knock on his front door. His head cocked to one side, as if he were confused as to what the noise could be. Who could possibly be visiting? The Sackville-Bagginses had stopped coming weeks ago, resigned to the fact that Bilbo would not be leaving his hole any time soon. Even Bilbo's friends had stopped dropping by to see him. Perplexed, the Hobbit hastily dried his hands and trundled to the door, trying his best to hitch a welcoming smile onto his face. He pulled the door open…and immediately gasped.

"Gandalf! Oh Gandalf, you have no idea how pleased I am to see you!" Bilbo ran out the door to greet the wizard, beaming up at the man, a light shining from behind his blue eyes. This day was shaping up to be quite the day indeed; where the wizened wizard was involved, mystery and adventure were never far behind. The Hobbit hadn't seen Gandalf since he had left Erebor, and the old man was certainly a sight for sore eyes.

"Bilbo! You look thinner than last we met. I trust you've been taking care of yourself?" Gandalf looked down at Bilbo questioningly; he could answer that question on his own. The Hobbit was indeed much thinner, which was quite a strange sight when Hobbits were involved. Indeed, most of the curious little creatures seemed to grow sideways for most of their lives, even after their upwards growing was long finished. There seemed to be something else wrong with the Hobbit as well, though Gandalf couldn't quite put his finger on it, even after studying Bilbo carefully.

"Well, you will come in, won't you? Though I will admit I wasn't expecting a guest…" Bilbo's thoughts went immediately to the state of his cozy little hole; there were trinkets and papers strewn all about the place, and an unusually tall pile of dishes in the sink. Suddenly rather sheepish, Bilbo stepped back into his home and to the side, allowing Gandalf room to pass. "You'll have to excuse the…state of my home. I've been feeling a bit odd recently. Rather sick."

Gandalf however, made no move to enter the Hobbit hole. Instead, he leaned on his staff and smiled, his eyes twinkling mysteriously.

"Actually, I thought you might enjoy some company other than a rickety old wizard, so I brought someone along."

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue as a dark figure stepped from behind the wizard. Large, rough hands reached up to remove the hood that overshadowed the figure's face; Bilbo gulped and almost clutched his stomach as a sharp pang of…something shot though his torso. There, once again uninvited, stood Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, Lord of Erebor. Even without his kingly adornments; the Dwarf had forsaken them for simpler traveling clothes; Thorin struck an impressive figure. A dark grey cloak was draped over his shoulders, partially hiding a thick leather jerkin emblazoned with the crest of Erebor. Matching leather gauntlets covered his lower arms. Orcrist was belted at his side, completing the picture of cool confidence that the Dwarf-king always portrayed.

"Bilbo, my friend!" Thorin passed Gandalf and entered Bilbo's home, clasping the Hobbit in a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and inspecting his state of being. "Gandalf is right; you seem rather peaky. We'll have to remedy that!" He gave the Hobbit a friendly thump on the arm and strode into the hole, wasting no time in removing his cloak and draping it over the coat rack near the door.

Bilbo remained where he was, seemingly glued to the spot. He had missed this whole exchange, lost in his thoughts. The arrival of the Dwarf who had been causing him so much anguish over the past few months appeared to be a bit too much for him to handle. It was Thorin's eyes that had struck him dumb; they were sparkling with a vitality that hadn't been there before, a joy that Bilbo would have given anything to see a few months earlier. Bilbo's heart soared, but a hint of doubt fluttered in his stomach. What if Thorin had changed? Would he be the same Dwarf Bilbo had fallen so hard for on their earlier journey, or had his kingship changed him beyond recognition?

"Well now, is your invitation to come in still valid, Bilbo?" Gandalf raised his eyebrows slightly, his own blue eyes gleaming with a sudden understanding and perhaps a hint of mirth. It had been a simple hunch that had encouraged Gandalf to bring Thorin along, and now he saw that his days of convincing the Dwarf-king to leave his kingdom were not spent in vain.

The wizards words snapped Bilbo out of his trance; he immediately began bustling around the front hall in a flurry of activity, ushering Gandalf in and taking his hat and staff, which he placed by the coat rack before shutting the large, circular door. Thorin was waiting patiently in the doorway to the kitchen; it seemed his self-control was still intact, much unlike most of his Dwarven kin.

"Oh… Half a minute, I'll find something for breakfast! Half a…let me see…" Bilbo vanished into the pantry, now thoroughly regretting not going to the market sooner. "I've got eggs and cheese, there's some fruit on the table I believe... I'll definitely make tea, must have tea with breakfast…" The Hobbit rushed out of the pantry with laden arms, talking all the way to the kitchen, where he gently deposited his burdens on the table and began scurrying about making breakfast, ignoring all of Thorin and the wizard's objections.

XxXxX

Quite awhile later, when breakfast was eaten and hot tea had been drunk, the talking began. Gandalf and Bilbo both lit their pipes; the little Hobbit had to clear a family of spiders out of his, as he hadn't used it in quite awhile. At first, Thorin spoke of his home in Erebor, filling Gandalf and Bilbo in on the comings and goings of his kingdom and of the town of Dale; everything was going quite smoothly, he explained. So smoothly, in fact, that several of the king's close advisers had actually encouraged his going away with Gandalf, so far from his domain. The stress of kingship had begun to get under the Dwarf's thick skin, and his friends believed that a journey, and maybe even an adventure or two, would do Thorin some good.

Eventually the Dwarf fell silent, allowing Gandalf to carry on the narrative. The wizard began to tell many fantastic stories, which kept Bilbo well entranced, and passed time quite effectively. Pipes had to be refilled several times, and elevensies and luncheon were handily forgotten about as Gandalf weaved his tales. Though Thorin had heard many of them on the road to the Shire, he was still engrossed in the wizard's storytelling.

The three friends talked well into the afternoon, until Bilbo stood and made a declaration.

"Well, I must say this has been one of the laziest and most exciting days I've spent in quite awhile! And I believe we are well overdue for some dinner."

Dinner, in this case, meant a small feast; Bilbo was feeling particularly lively, and got slightly carried away in his cooking. Gandalf left for a time during the preparation, apparently to arrange himself a room at the nearest inn that could accommodate Big Folk. He returned just before the last dish was set at the table, and the three sat down for yet another meal full of talking and joking.

Throughout the day, Bilbo had struggled with his conflicted emotions; Thorin had changed, obviously, but as the Dwarf sat in silence, listening attentively to Gandalf's stories, Bilbo could still see the haunted expression that had captured his attention the first night they had met. Though Erebor had been reclaimed and everything the Dwarf seemed to have hoped for had come true, there was still a brooding darkness covering Thorin's soul, and his eyes, the pits of untold memories and anguish that Bilbo had lost himself in that night, still hid many secrets and sentiments that beckoned to the Hobbit. He found himself staring into those eyes once again, unable to tear himself away; the dull ache inside him had risen to a crescendo in his chest, screaming at him. He couldn't tell if he wanted to be closer to Thorin or if he wanted to run away, bury his pain deep inside his soul and let it fester like a horrid virus, eating its way through his heart and mind. The Hobbit bit his lip and looked to the floor, the feeling of unspeakable loneliness welling up inside him once more, even though the person he wanted more than anything, more than life itself, was only a few feet away, laughing at one of the wizard's jokes.

Gandalf had, once again, picked up on Bilbo's feelings. He stood (to the best of his ability) and took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips.

"Well, I think it's high time for a rest, wouldn't you say Bilbo?"

The Hobbit jerked his head and glanced and Gandalf, nodding and standing himself. Yes, a long sleep would help…he hoped.

"I believe you're quite right Gandalf. I'm fuller than I have been in ages…you two will have your wish soon enough. If I keep eating like this, I'll be fatter than ever!" He forced a smile and stretched, casting fleeting look over at Thorin.

"I believe you have a guest room, Bilbo…?" Gandalf said pointedly. Bilbo's cheeks reddened and he hurried out of the room, muttering something about fixing the beds and perhaps doing some dusting…

Gandalf said his good-byes to Thorin and showed himself out of the Hobbit hole, secretly pleased to be out in the open air again. Hobbit holes, though comfortable and homey, could be quite stifling after a while of smoking before a fire.

Thorin made his way through the home, stopping by the door to the guest bedroom, where he could hear Bilbo mumbling to himself and rustling around with sheets and blankets. A small frown pulled at the corners of the Dwarf-king's mouth as he leaned against the doorframe. Something had been gnawing at him all day, and now that Gandalf was gone, he had made up his mind to ask about it.

"Bilbo? If I may ask…" He stopped speaking for a minute to allow the Hobbit to regain his composure; the Dwarf's sudden appearance had given him quite a scare. "If you don't mind me asking, are you…upset with me?" It seemed to Thorin that Bilbo had had been rather distant all day, talking mostly to Gandalf and avoiding eye contact with the Dwarf-king.

Bilbo was rather taken aback by this question. Though he couldn't describe or explain the feelings he was experiencing for the Dwarf, he knew for certain that he wasn't upset with him. In fact, most of the feelings stirring around inside the Hobbit were quite the opposite. However, that didn't mean Bilbo was comfortable with these feelings.

"I- Of- Of course not. Why ever would you think that?" Bilbo finished putting the final touches on the bed he was making and looked up, still avoiding the Dwarf's gaze. He was abruptly and excruciatingly aware of the pounding of his own heart, which seemed to skip a beat as he finally allowed his eyes to meet Thorin's. It was almost too much for him, to be that close to everything he had longed for and to be unable to have it. He was far too conflicted, and suddenly had to quench the desire to run from the room, which seemed to have grown a few degrees hotter in the last few moments.

"No, no, of course I'm not upset. Now, I've got your bed all ready, you can…you can make yourself at home. The bathroom is down the hall and to the right, you may wash up if you'd like to." Bilbo tore his eyes away from Thorin's as he said this, and missed the slightly hurt expression that flashed across them. Half hoping the Dwarf would say nothing else, Bilbo hurried past him and began to make his way down the hallway to his own room. He almost flinched as he heard Thorin's voice behind him.

"Well… I believe you, Master Baggins. Have a good night."

Bilbo's heart did a painful somersault at these words. He reluctantly turned and put on another fake smile.

"Yes…and you as well." Turning just in time to avoid a collision with his own bedroom door, Bilbo waved vaguely behind him and began fumbling with the doorknob, which seemed to be strangely slippery. Once safely behind the door, Bilbo found the source of the odd sensation; his palms were soaked in sweat, as were his back and thighs. A soft sigh escaped his parted lips as he leaned against the closed door. Gandalf was up to something, bringing Thorin into Bilbo's home like that, and he was going to find out what it was, no matter what the cost; the little Hobbit doubted he could survive another encounter like that.


	3. Dreams of Gold

Thorin watched Bilbo disappear behind the door at the end of the hallway, thoroughly perplexed at his friend's actions. Though he did believe that the Hobbit wasn't angry or upset with him, there was obviously something wrong with his little friend, and Thorin was willing to bet his beard that Gandalf knew something about it. Thorin sighed and walked into the room Bilbo had prepared for him; he would have to remember to ask the wizard about it the next day. Glancing around the room, Thorin smiled; it was rather sparsely furnished, but comfortable, and the Dwarf-king could see little touches that only Bilbo would think of when presented with guests at the last minute. Feeling strangely at home, Thorin wasted no time in stripping off the outer layers of his clothing and crawling into the newly made bed.

However, sleep did not come easily for the Dwarf; Bilbo's odd behavior kept floating to the forefront of his thoughts, causing him to toss and turn restlessly. What if there was something seriously wrong with the Hobbit? He had seemed perfectly fine while talking to Gandalf; in fact, Thorin hadn't really noticed anything too unusual, excepting Bilbo's distance with him, until the wizard had left. Perhaps the Hobbit didn't want to be alone with him? Had Thorin said something before Bilbo had left Erebor that had caused the Halfling distress? Had he said something to that effect today?

Thorin growled and threw the covers off as he realized he wasn't going to be getting to sleep any time soon. He considered waking the Hobbit and asking what was wrong, but he soon saw the obvious flaws in that plan and dropped it. If Hobbits were anything at all like Dwarves in their sleeping habits, Bilbo would definitely not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night to answer a worrying old Dwarf's questions. He debated getting dressed and going out to find Gandalf, but was relatively sure the wizard would probably be even less thrilled to be woken up than Bilbo. Frustrated, Thorin stood and stormed out to the hallway, stopping momentarily to make sure the door didn't bang shut and wake the Hobbit.

Grabbing his fur cloak as he passed, the Dwarf made his way out to the front hallway and paused again, this time to contemplate where exactly he was going. The fire had died down to glowing embers, casting strange, flickering shadows all about the front room. An owl hooted somewhere out in the night, a lonesome, depressing sound; Thorin shivered and pulled his cloak closer around himself, clenching his jaw as he did so. It seemed, on sleepless nights like this, that the world was seeking to suffocate him, wrapping him in a desolate loneliness that hung over his head like a funeral shroud. Try as he might, the Dwarf-king could not throw off the feeling; it had been following him for months now, ravaging his mind and soul, haunting him ceaselessly. He had spoken to only a select few about his affliction, and all had reminded him of his new position. Being king inevitably put him higher than his kin, a lonely and stressful position to say the least. Thorin had believed this, and secretly hoped that this journey to the Shire would alleviate his woes, but now, as he stared out the small window beside Bilbo's front door into the moonless night, he felt more isolated than ever.

Bilbo's distance and awkwardness around him bothered the Dwarf-king, possibly a little more than he would like to believe. Did the Halfling think Thorin was a different person now that he was a king? Had Thorin really changed that much? Unable to deal with the questions floating around his mind, the Dwarf bowed his head and covered his face with his hands silently pleading for this torment to stop. There was no reason for it. Thorin was undoubtedly the luckiest Dwarf in Middle Earth: He had his home back, all the riches he could ever need or want and the respect and love of his people and many others besides. He knew this to be completely true, but that knowledge did nothing to relieve the unwanted feelings gnawing at his mind.

A sour scowl planted itself on Thorin's face as he walked slowly to the kitchen where the remnants of dinner still remained. Clearing a place at the table, the Dwarf-king sat and buried his head in his arms, listening to the muffled nighttime sounds that could be heard through the half open window. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate; there was simply no way he was going to get any sleep at all that horrid night.

XxXxX

A little more than ten minutes later, Thorin had drifted off, snoring quietly, his head still rested on his folded arms. However, this peaceful sleep did not last; he was soon twitching and mumbling, lost in dreams of screeching owls and collapsing caves; fiery dragons and avalanches of gold burned against his mind's eye.

_Thorin woke suddenly, his chest heaving as he sat bolt upright. He had been lying on a rough stone floor, and seemed to be somewhere deep underground. This was definitely not Bilbo's comfortable Hobbit hole._

_A deep rumbling caused Thorin to jump to his feet, groping at his belt for Orcrist. Unable to find the weapon's hilt, the Dwarf looked down to his waist and grimaced when he saw that his sword was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, a feeling of unease began to grow around him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prick up. The floor beneath his feet began shaking, and, far away, footsteps could be heard. Extremely heavy footsteps, followed once again by the low rumbling. The growling, Thorin realized with horror, of a dragon._

_Dropping any ideas of fighting, the Dwarf-king began to run. The cavern he was trapped in seemed to have no boundaries, and he was beginning to get rather frantic before he finally slapped into a wall. He immediately began probing along it, praying that he would find a door before the dragon reached its destination. Nothing presented itself to him, however, and he was soon thrown flat on his back by a particularly violent quake of the floor. Slowly, a golden light began to fill the cavern from the far wall. It revealed very little, as the cavern was immensely huge, rivaling the legendary halls of the Dwarf-kings of old. Thorin was awestruck for a moment, but was quickly drawn back to the scene in front of him; the dragon had reached the cavern._

_A huge golden forepaw slammed to the ground, quickly followed by the beast's head and shoulders. It seemed as though the creature had taken a swim in molten gold; there were no scales to be seen, but the dragon shone brighter than any gold Thorin had seen, apparently emitting its own light in the perfect darkness of the cave. It was, without doubt, the most beautifully deadly thing the Dwarf had ever laid eyes on; talons as thick at Thorin's body curled from it's fingers and toes, and wicked teeth poked from it's upper and lower lips. Despite the danger he was in, Thorin couldn't tear his eyes away until the beast roared, a screeching, ear-splitting noise much like the sound of rocks splitting and scraping against each other before a rock-slide in the mountains. The sound filled the whole cavern with vibrations that multiplied exponentially; it was all Thorin could do to cover his ears and writhe in pain on the floor. He was quite sure his head would split right down the middle until the dragon stopped, sat, and waited for the last of the echoes to die away._

_Thorin sat up stiffly and gazed at the creature once again, unsure of how to address a dragon. Before he could come to a conclusion, the Dwarf noticed a small bundle at the dragon's feet, bathed in the strange glow emanating from the beast's golden hide. With a strangled yell, Thorin jumped to his feet once again and began to run toward the dragon; he would know that shape anywhere, though how a dragon had gotten hold of the Halfling, Thorin had no idea. Any ideas of rescuing his friend were dashed, however, as an immense forepaw crashed down in front of him, throwing him off balance. A low growl resonated through the Dwarf-king's chest, but it was soon drowned out by a strange gurgling snarl from the dragon. It took Thorin several seconds to realize what was going on; the creature was laughing at him._

_"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór…" The dragon's voice reverberated throughout the cavern, making it impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from; it seemed as likely it was coming from the wall behind Thorin as the dragon before him. This was quite an unsettling feeling, and the Dwarf had to fight the strong urge to glance behind him._

_"You're too late, King Under the Mountain. Your friend will die here, as you watch." The dragon's voice was as the voice of fate, and Thorin found himself rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but yell as a huge, taloned forepaw closed around the bundle at the creature's feet. Tears of fury crawled down Thorin's face as he watched the paw in horror; it raised the bundle to the dragon's eye level, then closed abruptly. The breath caught painfully in the Dwarf's chest, and it seemed for a moment that time stopped, casting a complete silence over the cavern. After several tense seconds, the eerie calm was rent by a scream that ripped from the Dwarf's throat as large rivulets of ruby red blood began to seep down the dragon's forearm. The strange chucking came again, accompanied by a large plume of smoke that rose from the dragon's nostrils._

_"Find your place, Thorin Oakenshield. Find your home, or you'll soon find it gone." An enormous plume of fire descended from the beast's jaws, vaporizing everything in its path as it raged through the cavern. The dragon's words echoed in Thorin's head as the fire approached him._

_'Find…my home…?' The Dwarf-king's thoughts were cut off abruptly as the fire reached him, and the world around him blacked out in a roar of all-consuming flame._


	4. The Designs of Wizards

Bilbo sighed happily as he walked to his small bedroom window and threw open the curtains. It was relatively early; the Hobbit usually would have slept for several more hours, but he felt quite invigorated that morning and had no desire to return to bed.

Though he had been rather shaken up the previous evening, once he had changed into his night clothes and settled into bed the Hobbit found that sleep came extremely easily. Thankfully, exhaustion from the day's surprises quickly overtook him, and he was asleep in minutes, free from any wild nighttime thoughts or troubling dreams.

"I was right, of course," Bilbo said to his bedpost. "I just needed a good night's sleep was all. I feel quite splendid…strangely." The Hobbit began to remove his night clothes, still talking to himself as he searched through his dresser for a set of clothes for the day. "However, I have no quarrel with getting a good night's sleep, and I shall most certainly not argue with it." He inspected himself in the full-length mirror in a corner of his room and smiled. "Now, time to wash up, and then we can check on our guest."

After bustling through his morning routine with his usual Hobbit-like vigor, Bilbo made his way down to Thorin's room, quietly debating if he should wake the Dwarf or not. It was still rather early, he thought, but they had gone to bed earlier than usual the night before. Besides, Bilbo needed to know what Thorin would like for breakfast, as he always felt uneasy cooking for guests without their input.

His mind made up, the Hobbit knocked tentatively on the door several times before letting himself in.

"Thorin, it's about time you- Huh." Bilbo placed his hands on his hips and looked around; the bed was empty and Thorin was nowhere to be seen, but his day clothes were still lying where he had put them the previous night. Even his boots remained, which was strange indeed for so practical a Dwarf as Thorin. "Well, perhaps he's already begun making breakfast…"

It was soon apparent that this was not the case however, as the house was silent as the grave as Bilbo padded up the main hallway to the front room. The Dwarf's large, fur-lined cloak was gone from its place at the coat rack, causing Bilbo to tilt his head slightly in confusion. Nothing seemed out of place, and the front door was still locked, so there was no way the Dwarf had left the house. Why would the cloak be missing?

This question was soon answered as Bilbo caught sight of a dark figure slouched in one of his kitchen chairs. He sighed heavily; what on Earth was Thorin doing sleeping in the kitchen? He had known the Dwarf was a little strange; most of them were in their own ways; but this was rather ridiculous. Kitchens were for cooking and eating, not taking mid-morning naps.

"Thorin! Thorin Oakenshield, you wake up right now and help me clean this mess!" Bilbo stomped into the kitchen and made to put a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder, but stopped abruptly and let his arm drop to his side. He had once been flipped over by a Dwarf he had woken that way, and he had no desire to repeat the experience. Thankfully, Thorin began to stir and soon lifted his head, gazing blearily at the Hobbit before him.

"Bilbo…?" Thorin blinked several times and sat up a little straighter, still staring at his small friend intently. "You're…you're okay? You're alive!" The Dwarf-king suddenly jumped from his chair and pulled Bilbo into a bone-breaking hug, lifting the little Halfling off the floor in his enthusiasm.

Completely taken aback by the unexpected affection, the Hobbit struggled for a second, but soon relaxed and allowed Thorin to finish his hug. Once he was safely back on solid ground, Bilbo looked up at the Dwarf, unsure of what to say. A warm, prickling sensation began to crawl across his ears and the back of his neck, and he turned his face to the floor.

"Well…good morning to you too, I suppose." Bilbo backed away slowly and began clearing the table, hoping that Thorin would explain himself. Though this wasn't the first time he had received a hug from the Dwarf-king and he was relatively sure it didn't mean anything, the Hobbit couldn't stop his stomach from fluttering.

Thorin, now wide awake and somewhat embarrassed, pulled his cloak around himself and glanced sheepishly over to his friend.

"Er… I am…sorry, about that. My dreams of late have been a little more…vivid than usual." Thorin could feel a hot blush begin to creep over his cheeks and he turned to the doorway, mentally berating himself for making the Hobbit uneasy again. It seemed that no matter how lightly he tiptoed around the Halfling, there was always something he could break, some way he could make Bilbo uncomfortable in his presence. He was a Dwarf, after all, and subtlety was not one of their strong points.

After taking several seconds to reign in redness splotched across his cheeks, Thorin turned back to the table and began helping the Hobbit clean, occasionally asking where things were supposed to go. They finished in good time, and Bilbo wiped his hands on a dish towel before casting fleeting look in Thorin's direction.

"Well, you'd better go get dressed. I expect Gandalf will be along any time now."

Thorin nodded in agreement and hastily left the kitchen, throwing his cloak back on the rack as he passed. Bilbo waited until he heard the distant sound of the guest room door shutting, then flopped down in one of the kitchen chairs and laid his head on the table. Though still rather confused as to what had just transpired between himself and the Dwarf-king, he was well aware that he had probably made his friend feel even worse than he had last night. Bilbo was still not mad, obviously; he just couldn't sort out his feelings on his own, and, unfortunately, it seemed there was no one readily available to help him with his dilemma.

The Hobbit was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar knock at the door. He sprung to his feet and nearly ran to the small entrance hall, thrilled that he would no longer have to be alone with the Dwarf. Gandalf would undoubtedly have some task or adventure for them; perhaps that would allow Bilbo's thoughts to sort themselves out. The Hobbit found that problems often fixed themselves when left alone for awhile.

Bilbo bowed and stepped to the side as he opened the door, motioning the wizard into his home with a sweeping gesture.

"Good morning Gandalf! I trust you had a nice rest?"

Gandalf grumbled as he crossed the threshold, seeming rather flustered.

"I believe I've told you before, Bilbo Baggins; 'good morning' is a very ambiguous expression." Barely glancing at the Hobbit, the old wizard made his way into the drawing room and found a seat, though it was barely big enough for him. "Where is our friend? Have you scared him off?"

Bilbo stared blankly at the wizard for a moment, wondering what had put him in such a dreary mood. Deciding that this was a question better left unanswered, the Hobbit hurried to the kitchen and began to prepare some tea.

"I believe he's getting dressed, he should be out soon." Gandalf grunted in response, leaving Bilbo to prepare the tea in silence. This was soon interrupted however, as Thorin reentered the drawing room, now dressed and somewhat groomed. The Dwarf frowned as he saw the irritable look on the wizard's face.

"What's wrong? Have the plans gone awry?"

Gandalf waited as Thorin situated himself before speaking; his voice was gruff and decidedly prickly.

"Technically, no. However, I heard an old Hobbit down at the inn say it was going to rain. He could feel it in his joints, apparently, and I've learned throughout my long life that Hobbit joints are to be trusted." He mumbled a thank you as Bilbo passed him a cup of tea. "However, I refuse to change the plans. We will leave today, rain or no rain."

Bilbo finished serving Thorin and grabbed his own cup before sitting in the kitchen, facing his two friends.

"Gandalf, where are we going? What are these mysterious plans?" Though Bilbo felt a little adventure would be much appreciated, his Hobbit instincts did not allow him to go rushing into things without some debate first. He also disliked when people included him in activities without giving him any details; it was a pet peeve of his, and no amount of Dwarf escapades would change that. "I would very much like to know what I'll be doing before I agree to any of your plans."

Gandalf scoffed and regarded Bilbo with apparent distaste, though he couldn't disguise the twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, don't start you backpedaling on me, Bilbo Baggins. You know full-well, as do I, that you would not turn down an adventure I brought to you. As it were, this will be more of a visit than an adventure; I wish to go see an old friend of mine, and decided Thorin would benefit from the trip. You entered my mind as well. I find that Hobbits are generally useful creatures, and it is always good sense to bring one along on a journey to anywhere."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, regarding the wizard with no small amount of skepticism. Though he personally felt that the old man's story didn't add up completely, he was not about to argue; Gandalf made it a habit to hide things from his companions, and Bilbo had found through his previous adventure that these things Gandalf kept hidden were often better left unsaid.

"Well, I don't believe you in the slightest." Bilbo rose from his chair and placed his mug on the table, loath to wash anymore dishes. "However, I feel I've been cooped up in this hole a while too long. I accept your offer, Gandalf."

"Oh you do, do you? Well, I suppose I should consider myself lucky!" Gandalf pulled out his pipe and began rummaging around in his cloak. "Go, both of you! Get ready, quickly please. I shall be leaving at noon, with or without you both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should be making more notes... But I can't think of anything to say... Oh well! Off into the great beyond! *soars away*


	5. A Journey Begins

Not wanting to feel an angry wizard's wrath, Bilbo and Thorin both scrambled from their chairs and tried to be as nonchalant as possible while hurrying to their respective rooms. Though they both knew Gandalf wouldn't hurt them or curse them in any way, there was still something inherently frightening about the wizard that was impossible to ignore. Once they were safely around the corner and down the main hallway, the pair slowed their steps, relatively sure they could afford to pack in leisure.

A quiet sigh drifted from Bilbo's mouth as he walked, slightly ahead of Thorin. He had been mentally debating whether or not to apologize to Thorin about his behavior that morning, and had finally come to a decision as he saw the Dwarf turn to enter the guest room. He took a step towards the Dwarf, but stopped in his tracks and jumped as Thorin abruptly twisted to face him; the two had almost smashed heads, and were now mere inches away from each other. Bilbo immediately went red and backed away, suddenly feeling quite shy.

"Um… I was just wondering if…I could have a word with you, Thorin." Bilbo gathered his courage and looked up at the Dwarf, silently willing his face to return to its normal, pinkish hue. For one horrifying second the Hobbit thought Thorin would refuse, but his fears were alleviated as something like relief swept over the Dwarf's face.

"Of course you may. I would say come in, but considering this is your house…" Thorin smiled and backed into the room, allowing Bilbo room to follow. The Hobbit, however, stayed in the doorway, playing with his own fingers bashfully.

"I just wanted to…apologize for how I reacted this morning. It was silly of me to act the way I did. I just… I…" He trailed off, unsure of how exactly to finish his sentence. Mercifully, Thorin spoke, and saved the Hobbit the trouble.

"Of course, your apology is accepted, friend, though I do not think it was necessary." The Dwarf's smile quelled the Halfling's worries; even now that smile was a rare sight, and Bilbo's heart swelled at the sight of it. "I should have acted with more caution." The Hobbit opened his mouth to dispute this, but Thorin quieted him with a look and glanced to the ceiling, as if uncertain of how to continue.

"I…have a question for you, but before I ask, I would like you to promise that you will answer truthfully, or not at all." Bilbo's eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent. His stomach began to knot painfully as he gazed at the expression on Thorin's face. "Will you swear?" The Hobbit nodded slowly, his mouth suddenly dry. For some reason, he felt that this might be a question he would have to choose not to answer.

"I would like to know how exactly you feel about me-"

Bilbo nearly fainted at this; how could he possibly reveal his feelings for the Dwarf-king? He hadn't prepared, hadn't rehearsed… The setting was all wrong, there was no way Thorin would accept the truth, and there was no possible way Bilbo could put his feelings into words.

"-because I believe I have done something to upset you in some way."

Now Bilbo's apprehension turned slowly to guilt. His fears had, in fact, been accurate; the Dwarf thought Bilbo was upset with him! Another small sigh escaped Bilbo's lips as he contemplated how to respond.

"I can understand it you don't want-"

"No, no, I'll answer. I'll be the first to admit I haven't been a very good host." A tiny, almost regretful smile appeared on the Hobbit's face as he spoke. "However, before I say anything else, you must promise me something." Thorin said nothing, but his gaze told Bilbo to continue. "Promise that once I say what I'm going to say I can go pack without a word from you, and we will not talk of the matter anymore until our journey is well underway."

The Dwarf-king tilted his head slightly, a little thrown off by the request, but nodded nonetheless.

"You have my word, Bilbo Baggins." The little Hobbit nodded in approval and turned his eyes up to meet Thorin's, as if to prove he was telling the truth.

"I am honestly not sure how I feel about you, Thorin Oakenshield. You have insulted me more times than I can count, have doubted me more times than that, and yet…I don't hate you. I'm not upset with you. I do not think I could be mad at you if I tried. You…you're mysterious, and I can't help but feel…drawn by it. Ever since that first night, when you barged into my house-" Thorin smiled sheepishly at this, "-I've found you…mesmerizing, entrancing." With this, Bilbo finally broke eye contact with the Dwarf, more than a little embarrassed about his modest speech. He could go on for hours about Thorin's eyes alone, but choose not to delve into great detail; it was time to beat a hasty retreat.

"There, I…I told you. Now get ready to leave." Glancing up at the Dwarf's face once again, Bilbo allowed a smile to grace his features. "I really would hate to go on this journey without you."

He then turned away and hurried down the hallway to his own bedroom, leaving Thorin to reflect on the Hobbit's words.

Back in the drawing room, Gandalf smiled enigmatically. It was always a bad idea to underestimate a wizards' hearing.

XxXxX

Thorin hadn't unpacked his bag when he had first arrived at Bilbo's house, so there was nothing for him to pack, giving him time to sit on the bed and think. Of all the things he had expected Bilbo to say, what he had just been told was definitely not among them. Mysterious…mesmerizing, even? The Dwarf-king caught himself smiling. He felt a twinge of pride at the Hobbit's words along with something else he couldn't identify. A strange desire to scoop Bilbo into his arms and carry him back home to Erebor popped into existence somewhere inside him, and he frowned. It seemed the Hobbit had some sway over him, much more than he had originally thought.

At the same time Thorin was sorting out his tangled feelings, Bilbo was bustling around his bedroom trying to forget his own. Though he wasn't sure how the Dwarf had felt about his words, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know, he was quite certain that their relationship would never be the same. A scowl wormed its way onto his face as he remembered his last comment.

"Well Bilbo, you've done it now. What were you thinking? You couldn't have just turned around and left, and would have been none the worse for it." The talking continued until Bilbo's hands fell upon something he hadn't been searching for; a golden ring, the one he had found on his last journey. It had been sitting on his bedside table gathering dust, but now he picked it up and examined it in the light. It was a beautiful thing, and had come in handy on his previous adventure. What was the harm in bringing it along? Tucking the ring into his waistcoat pocket, Bilbo shouldered his full pack and kicked his door open, ready to get going.

Thorin was already sitting with Gandalf, his pack at his feet, talking about something in a low voice when Bilbo entered the sitting room. The wizard stood immediately (to the best of his capability) and clapped his hands once.

"Ah, finally. I was beginning to think you had abandoned us, Master Baggins." Bilbo shrugged sheepishly.

"I am quite sorry I took so long. I was unprepared for a journey, considering I have only just arrived home from one."

Gandalf nodded absentmindedly and tucked his pipe away, then began to make his way to the door.

"Well, come on you two, it's time to leave." Thorin followed Gandalf to the door, with Bilbo close behind. However, the little Halfling halted suddenly, feeling at his pockets.

"Oh! Half a minute!" He scampered back to the drawing room and began to rummage about, obviously looking for something. "Almost forgot my handkerchief."

Gandalf attempted to look angry, but gave up quickly, smiling at the Hobbit's innocence.

"Well, we surely wouldn't want you to leave one of those behind again." He caught Thorin's eye and winked; Hobbits were certainly fascinating creatures.


	6. The Journey Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever~ I actually have up to chapter 17 finished, I just haven't been posting much. :)

Bilbo inhaled deeply as he stepped out of his cozy Hobbit hole, feeling the tense energy that had been building up in his system slowly begin to melt away. There was something very comforting about breaking the metaphorical ties that had held the Hobbit to his pain and sorrow; of course, the cause of those woes was now with him once again, which should have helped alleviate his troubles in the first place. This was the one aspect of the trip that caused Bilbo some confusion. Though he now had Thorin back and had plenty of opportunities to express himself to the Dwarf, he found the same timidity that had been there before he had left Erebor. Something about Thorin made the hobbit uneasy; perhaps it was the possibility of rejection; perhaps Bilbo didn't want to risk hurting the platonic relationship they had now. Whatever the reason, it seemed to the Hobbit that it was going to take no small amount of courage to remedy his situation.

It seemed quite naive now, believing that simply being around Thorin again would solve his problems; it was now blaringly obvious how wrong this assumption had been. Bilbo hadn't taken into account that in order to make Thorin his, he had to first cope with his own shortcomings. No matter how much he was around the Dwarf or how many adventures they went on together, the fact remained that Bilbo was shy and nervous around Thorin, and had no idea how to even begin explaining his feelings.

"Ah- Ouch!"

Bilbo was jerked out of his thoughts quite rudely by a thin root that stretched across the road and caught his ankle. After trying to regain his balance and failing rather spectacularly, he hit the ground hard on his hands and knees, cursing his own inattentiveness. Gandalf and Thorin, who hadn't noticed their companion's fall, continued for several more steps before pausing and looking back to see where the Hobbit had gotten to. By now, Bilbo was scrambling to his feet, reluctant to give the pair any reason to regret bringing him along. Thankfully, his knees were mostly unharmed, though he might have bruises the next day; however, there were several long, deep scratches on his palms that were beginning to bleed freely. Ignoring the pain, he awkwardly dusted himself off and stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping no one had noticed.

"Well, it seems someone needs to pay more attention to their feet!" Gandalf placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the Hobbit, quite aware of the pain on his little friend's face. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Nothing a little walking won't solve." The Hobbit smiled, trying his best to keep the discomfort from his face. "I'll be sure to watch for roots from now on…"

Gandalf nodded slowly, still eyeing Bilbo skeptically. Though he was unconvinced that the Hobbit was 'fine', he saw no further need to discuss the matter, and began to walk again. The wizard could think of many reasons why Bilbo would want to disguise his pain, and certainly did not want to humiliate or distress the Hobbit anymore.

Bilbo, however, was indeed more distressed, though it was not the wizard's doing. Just as he was standing back up, Bilbo had caught a glimpse of Thorin's face; the Dwarf was glaring down at him with the same look he had thrown at Bilbo when he had slowed them down on their last adventure. The gaze had sliced him right in two, making him forget his pain and embarrassment almost immediately. It was as if an ice cold blade had been stabbed into his chest and twisted violently, and the Hobbit had to fight back tears of surprise that sprung, unbidden, into his eyes. The world Bilbo had built around himself and the Dwarf-king slowly began to come crashing down around him as Thorin turned away to follow the old wizard; it took every ounce of will-power Bilbo could muster to start walking once again. There was only so much emotional torment one Hobbit could take, and Bilbo was nearing his limit.

So nothing had changed between them then? Bilbo should have surmised as much. Though they had become fast friends on their last adventure, the ordeal with the Arkenstone, which Bilbo certainly did not want to think about, had shaken those bonds right to their foundations, and they had just barely been steadied when the Hobbit had left Erebor. Tending the Dwarf-prince's wounds had helped, and he had apologized many times, but there was always that miniscule shadow in Thorin's eyes when Bilbo had been readying to depart the Dwarven kingdom. Maybe that's why Bilbo had such a hard time opening up to the Dwarf. The darkness of distrust seemed to have disappeared more recently, the Hobbit had thought, but he had definitely glimpsed a hint of it in Thorin's disapproving stare.

Clenching his fists in his pockets, Bilbo kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He now wished he had brought a walking stick, though it would probably be hurting his hands right at the moment. He made a mental note to make one when they came to a wood or forest. To keep his thoughts from returning to Thorin's obvious disappointment, Bilbo quickened his pace to catch up to Gandalf.

"Gandalf, where exactly are we going? I understand we're going to see a friend of yours, but-" The Hobbit was cut off by a large hand waving vaguely above him.

"As of right now, we're going to Rivendell. Then I will choose-" Gandalf turned indignantly as he was interrupted by an exclamation in Dwarvish. Thorin's eyes were blazing as he stared at the wizard, his shoulders suddenly tense under his thick cloak.

"I refuse to be coerced into visiting that place again! I wouldn't come within a hundred-"

"Enough, Thorin Oakenshield! You will go where I lead you, or you will find your own way back to your mountain halls! I will not deal with your confounded grudges right now!"

Gandalf rarely shouted, and it was, thankfully, enough to make Thorin shut his mouth and focus on the ground before him. However, hostility was thick in the air, and Bilbo fell back a few feet, rather glad he wasn't in Thorin or Gandalf's shoes.

Several miles later, after quite awhile of tension-filled silence, the skies opened and began pelting the small company with huge drops of icy rain. Bilbo was soaked through in seconds, and was quite miserable just a few moments later. Thorin and the wizard walked on, taking no notice of the rain; they were both still fuming, and neither was apparently willing to suggest seeking shelter from the deluge.

Bilbo took a moment, when he was sure no one was looking, to remove his hands from his pockets and rinse the dirt from his wounds. He flinched as the rain ran over the open scratches, which were still oozing slowly in several places. Unfortunately, the water did little to dull the throbbing pain that had crept down his fingers and up into his wrists. Closing his fists again with a hiss, the Hobbit placed them gingerly back into his pockets and took a deep breath.

"Err…Gandalf? I don't think we would be accomplishing anything if one of us fell and broke a leg." The road was getting muddy, and had been fairly dangerous in some places. Indeed, Bilbo had almost slipped several times, and had even seen Gandalf loose his footing at least once.

"What are you insinuating, Bilbo Baggins? That we should stop and hide from a little rain?"

Though Bilbo would usually not argue at the wizard's tone, he was drenched and annoyed, and in no mood to deal with the rain anymore.

"Well, yes. It's not as if we're going to be late for anything. Besides, it is getting rather late. I would say it's almost dinnertime."

Gandalf sighed and slowed his pace; they had gotten farther than he had anticipated for the day, and his hat had been dropping water down the back of his neck for the past ten minutes. Perhaps it was time for a break. He looked around; they were currently under a small crop of trees, and there were several that seemed to be holding up well against the downpour.

"Oh fine! You will have your way, Master Baggins. However, we will move on at first light tomorrow, and not a moment later!"

Bilbo sighed and scurried under the largest, driest looking tree he could see, nodding distractedly at Gandalf's pronouncement.

"Of course, of course… Whatever you say, dear Gandalf…" The Hobbit's teeth were chattering as he slumped against the tree trunk, quite relieved to be free of the relentless rain. It was beginning to feel as though hundreds of tiny fingers were poking him repeatedly, and it was rather unsettling.

"Well, don't just sit there, Bilbo! Fetch us some firewood; I don't think you would appreciate being wet and cold all night." Gandalf propped his staff against the tree and raised his eyebrows at the dejected expression Bilbo shot at him.

"Gandalf, everything will be soaked-"

"I am a wizard, Bilbo Baggins, and believe it or not I can uphold that title. Now, firewood!" Choosing not to dispute the grumpy wizard anymore, Bilbo shucked off his pack and began scampering around the wood, gathering any relatively dry branches he could find.

By the time he returned to his companions, the two were sitting as far away from each other as possible without getting wet. Bilbo almost smiled; it seemed that neither of his friends would drop a disagreement very easily.

"Ah, excellent." Gandalf stood and removed the small bundle of firewood from Bilbo's arms. "It's not much, but I suppose you can go fetch some more later." The Hobbit usually would have fired a snide remark at the wizard, but elected to forgo this, deciding that he would rather keep out of Gandalf's line of sight and avoid anymore work the wizard might throw at him.

True to his word, Gandalf soon had a merry blaze going in what he had chosen as the driest place under the tree. Bilbo was huddled in a ball as close as he could get without burning himself, keeping his aching hands hidden in his lap. He had hung his small jacket on a limb close to the fire, and was now wrapped up in his blanket to keep warm. Thorin had discarded his coat, but left on everything else, even the chain-mail he had donned before setting out; his coat had protected him from the bulk of the rain, and he was perfectly comfortable as he was.

After a few minutes of drying his hat over the fire, Gandalf exhaled loudly and pushed it back onto his head.

"Well, I'm going to gather some intelligence. I'll be back before dawn; please don't move, and don't get yourselves killed." He walked briskly back to the road, pausing only for a second to listen to Bilbo's anticipated complaints.

"Intelligence? What kind of intelligence? And we're still in the Shire, what could possibly happen? Gandalf!" Bilbo scowled and yanked the blanket tighter around himself as the wizard ignored him and disappeared into the rainstorm.

Now that he was warm and relatively dry, Bilbo's attention went to his hands. They were scabbed over and looked rather dreadful, but he couldn't bandage them for fear of alerting his companions to his obvious ineptitude. He had said it himself; they were still in the Shire, and he was already proving once again that he couldn't hold his own on an adventure. Though he knew this not to be true; he had faced a dragon single-handedly on his last excursion; he simply couldn't accept any reality other than what he had set in his mind. Why Gandalf kept choosing him for these outlandish journeys, Bilbo didn't know.

The Hobbit started and bit his tongue accidentally as Thorin's deep voice rumbled across the fire.

"I know you are injured, Halfling. Why do you hide it?" Bilbo looked up and was met with Thorin's deep blue eyes, which were gazing at him intently. The phrase 'Halfling' rang in Bilbo's ears; why was the Dwarf being so distant? He had used Bilbo's name before, just that morning. Why the unfamiliarity now?

"I…don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just-" The Hobbit's words died in this throat as Thorin suddenly appeared in front of him. It amazed the Bilbo how Dwarves could pop up when you least expected them; they certainly didn't look like very speedy creatures.

"You can't lie to me, Master Baggins."

The knot in the Hobbit's chest loosened slightly as his name passed the Dwarf's lips; however, this was soon forgotten as Thorin reached inside Bilbo's blanket tent and gently grasped his wrists, pulling his hands out into the open. A small gasp escaped the Hobbit, and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"Just fine, eh?" The Dwarf-king turned the Bilbo's hands over to inspect his palms, mentally wincing himself. The cuts were deep, and seemed worse than they should have, considering the Halfling had fallen on a plain dirt road. He released Bilbo's wrists and walked to his pack, rummaging around for something as he spoke.

"They don't seem fine to me. Here…" Thorin returned with a roll of bandages and sat beside the Hobbit, his gruff expression softening at the look on Bilbo's face. "May I?"

Bilbo's head was now spinning; as if Thorin wasn't confusing enough, now he was having mood-swings? The Hobbit just sighed, not even bothering to delve into his feelings. He knew full-well he wouldn't find anything of use there. Now that his little secret had been exposed there was no reason to refuse the Dwarf, and his hands hurt too much to argue, so he relinquished them to Thorin's care.

"Normally I would boil water to clean the wounds first, but I believe that can wait until morning. The rain has washed away most of the dirt, and you seem tired." Bilbo nodded drearily, keeping his eyes fixed on a branch somewhere above Thorin's left shoulder as the Dwarf began to unroll the bandages. The last thing he needed right now was to look at his companion; he could already see enough in his mind's eye. The firelight reflecting in Thorin's eyes as he strove to be gentle, his deft movements and unwavering attention all focused on Bilbo… The Hobbit resisted the urge to bite his lip as he felt Thorin's hands against his own. This was unbearable.

Thankfully (at least, that's what Bilbo told himself), Thorin was finished quickly. The Dwarf had bandaged many wounds in his day and had no trouble doing it at a moment's notice. Bilbo turned back to the fire as Thorin returned the bandages to his bag and returned to his original seat across from the Hobbit.

"That's…better." Bilbo could feel the hot blush spreading across his cheeks and hoped the glow of the fire kept it hidden from Thorin. However, he couldn't resist any longer; he had to see the Dwarf's eyes, if only to try to unlock what he was thinking. Thorin was staring into the fire, unaware of the Hobbit's eyes on him.

Bilbo's eyelids began to droop as he drank in every detail he could of his friend's face. The firelight cast a warm glow over his features, enhancing the striking contrast between his skin and raven-colored hair. But, as always, the Hobbit was immediately drawn to Thorin's eyes, which were just as captivating as they had been that night so long ago in Bilbo's sitting room. All of the Hobbit's longing suddenly crashed down upon him, and he realized, in a horrible, wonderful wave of mixed feelings, that there was no way he would be able to live without Thorin by his side.

With this thought forefront in his mind, Bilbo pulled his bedroll out of his pack and unfurled it in front of the fire, lying down as he spoke sleepily.

"Thorin…thank you…" Bilbo closed his eyes reluctantly, holding on to the vision of Thorin's eyes bathed in firelight.

"You are welcome, Bilbo Baggins."

A small smile crept over Bilbo's face as he heard his name; perhaps things were beginning to take a turn for the better.


	7. Reflections and Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And poof, I'm randomly back. o3o Please enjoy.

Thorin watched as the Halfling across the fire fell asleep, a conflicted look in buried deep in his eyes. His mind was spinning, brimming over with questions and apologies and all manner of things he wanted to say to Bilbo; unfortunately, most of the things that seemed important were too personal to put into words. Dwarves' feelings were either very simple or very complex, and Thorin quite disliked dealing with the latter.

Unable to unravel most of his tangled emotions, the Dwarf-king settled on berating himself for acting so strangely around his little friend. It was probably confusing for the Hobbit to have so many different messages flung at him, but there was really no help for it. Even so, Thorin felt he should do something, anything, to shed light on his odd behavior. Bilbo deserved to know why he was being subjected to such spiteful treatment from one who was supposed to be his friend.

There was the small fact however, that Thorin himself couldn't work through his thoughts. He honestly hadn't the faintest idea what was going on in his apparently convoluted mind, or what Bilbo had to do with it. It was possible that the Hobbit just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Thorin doubted this. He had felt fine until he arrived at Bilbo's house; well, 'fine', at least, by his own standards. If others were to judge, they would find the Dwarf-king to be very much the opposite of 'fine'. In fact, they would believe there was something seriously wrong with the Dwarf. He hadn't been sleeping well since Bilbo left Erebor, and nightmares kept slinking into his sleeping mind, causing him to wake up in cold sweats. This might have made sense, perhaps, if the problems had left when Thorin arrived at Bilbo's house; however, they had only gotten worse, leaving the Dwarf-king helpless and frustrated.

Heaving a sigh and pushing most conscious thought to the back of his mind, Thorin focused his attention back on the Halfling, who was now fast asleep and snoring quietly. Tilting his head slightly, Thorin suppressed a chuckle; it was rather…cute, he thought, to see Bilbo curled up under his blanket, clutching it like a young Hobbit child. His small face, bathed in orange light from the fire, was serene and gentle, much like a Hobbit face should be while sleeping after a (somewhat) long day of traveling. As Thorin looked closer however, he saw that Bilbo's eyes seemed rather sunken, and there were large rings around them, as if the Hobbit had been having trouble sleeping recently. His normally round, jovial face seemed thin and pinched, even in sleep. This bothered the Dwarf; was it possible that he and poor Bilbo had been experiencing the same symptoms?

Powerless to escape his thoughts, which were now set in motion once again, Thorin got to his feet and tiptoed to his pack, trying to remain as quiet as possible so as not to wake the Halfling. After shrugging his heavy cloak onto his shoulders and pulling the hood up to protect against the rain, Thorin began to walk through the trees, making sure to keep the fire visible at all times. If something attacked, he knew he had mere seconds to return to Bilbo's side before the Hobbit was captured, injured or worse. Of course, Bilbo was quite correct when he said they were still in the Shire; it was highly unlikely that anything would go amiss during the night, but the Dwarf-king liked to be sure.

Choosing another relatively dry tree in the crop surrounding him, Thorin leaned against the trunk and crossed his arms, gazing thoughtfully out into the night. Fog was beginning to creep through the trees, muffling the sound of the rain and sparse nighttime animal noises. It was eerie to say the least, and Thorin found himself shivering in spite of his thick fur cloak. Though the Dwarf usually liked rain and otherwise dreary weather, he suddenly wished the night was clear and warm, like most in the mild-weathered Shire. Something about the rain depressed him; while he would normally be comforted by the drops, this particular night they seemed menacing and close, as if trying to shut Thorin into a lofty cathedral of falling water and looming trees from which there was no escape, for mind or body. Oh, how he longed for his familiar mountain halls…

This idea did little to console the Dwarf-king. For some reason, the thought of his domain left his soul just as empty and cold as the pouring rain. This was indeed troubling, and Thorin's brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around this feeling of isolation. He could think of nowhere that he had truly felt at home, even now that Erebor had been reclaimed. It seemed as though Thorin Oakenshield was not meant to have a home, and was doomed to die a wanderer, alone and bitter in a cold, graying world. Bilbo had been right that night so long ago when he had-

Bilbo.

If possible, Thorin's frown became more pronounced, and a hot prickling sensation began to crawl up the back of his neck.

Bilbo had to be the connecting factor in all of this; all the jumbled feelings and dark dreams were centered around the Halfling. Thorin had begun losing sleep when Bilbo had left Erebor, and his affliction had gotten worse the night he had spent in the Hobbit's home. All the time he had spent with the Halfling, all the murmured conversations and intense emotion; it had all boiled down to this, this one singular thought, one feeling in the ever treacherous, swirling sea that was Thorin Oakenshield's soul.

Bilbo was his home. The Hobbit's face was all the riches he could desire, the tender smile his food and drink, his company all the family Thorin would needed. Bilbo's presence was his bed and blankets, and Bilbo's heart was his hearth and fire, tucked safely inside the tiny package that was everything Thorin could ever ask for.

Suddenly dumbstruck, Thorin made his way slowly out from under the tree, removing his hood to allow the rain to wash steadily down his face. His eyes closed against the water, but he couldn't shut out the visions that flickered behind his eyelids. A soft sigh slipped passed his lips and his fists clenched against his sides; now that his emotions were finally laid out plainly before him, the Dwarf-king almost wished he had left them alone.

Thorin had always told himself he would never fall in love.


	8. Crash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be ready for a surprise in this chapter!

It was tremendously foggy when Bilbo awoke. In fact, the Hobbit hadn't seen so much fog in all his days; it was as if a thick cloud had come to rest over the Shire, obscuring everything more than a few feet away in a damp haze that clung to anything it touched. Bilbo's bedroll and blankets were covered in little beads of water, which rolled down onto the grass at he sat up.

Thorin was up and about, it seemed. The Dwarf was nowhere to be seen, and the only hint that he was ever there was the large pack across the remnants of the fire. Unperturbed by this, Bilbo stuffed his bedding into his own bag and stood, taking a few minutes to stretch before going to look for his kingly friend.

"Thorin? Don't you think it's about time we got going?" Raising a hand to his brow, Bilbo squinted, as if that would help him see through the misty murk before him. He didn't have to search long however, as a dark shape soon materialized out of the fog.

"Good mor-"

"Gandalf isn't back yet." Thorin's voice was a low rumble, and his shoulders were hunched in annoyance as he passed Bilbo on his way back to their meager campsite. One of Bilbo's eyebrows slowly began to creep upwards as he turned to watch the Dwarf storm off. Though he knew the wizard's near constant disappearances irritated Thorin greatly, this level of petulance was rather uncalled for. Bilbo padded after his companion, determined to find the true source of Thorin's grumpiness.

"Is something…bothering you?" Bilbo almost laughed at the sight that greeted him as he approached the campsite; Thorin was sitting in front of his pack with his head resting in his hands, looking for all the world like a pouting child after being told he couldn't have his dessert.

Thorin however, was decidedly not amused. It was true that he simply hated when Gandalf vanished for no reason, but something about that morning in particular had rubbed the Dwarf the wrong way. For starters, there was absolutely no reason for the wizard to leave in the first place, seeing as they were still in the Shire. There was nothing to scout, no enemies to worry about and certainly no way to check up on their destination, especially if they were supposed to stop at Rivendell. Even a wizard couldn't traverse that far in one night. Secondly, just as there was no reason for Gandalf's leaving, there was even less cause for him to remain that way. He wasn't lost, obviously; wizards did not get lost; and no one was going to hurt or kidnap him in the Shire. Thorin exhaled loudly in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.

"Nothing is bothering me, Master Hobbit. I am simply…tired."

Bilbo cast an unconvinced look in the Dwarf-king's direction and placed his hands on his hips.

"While I highly doubt that, I think I'll elect to ignore it for now." Walking back to his pack, Bilbo fished out a small knife. "But I do believe we should wait for Gandalf a while longer. We can't go stomping off and leave him behind." As he spoke, Bilbo began to search around the tree for a suitable piece of wood. One satisfied with his selection, the Hobbit sat beside his own pack and began to whittle. Though he wasn't really sure what he was doing, he had always wanted to try carving, and now seemed like the perfect time.

Thorin, despite his foul mood, shifted slightly to watch Bilbo's efforts. Being rather well versed in the art of wood carving, it only took a few minutes for the Dwarf see that Bilbo was thoroughly incompetent, and would probably hurt himself. Sighing lightly, Thorin stood and stepped over the remains of the fire, settling down again at Bilbo's side.

"You're supposed to cut away from your body. You're going to lose a finger if you aren't careful. May I?"

Bilbo started and almost dropped his wood as the Dwarf-king spoke, retaining his hold just long enough to basically throw it into Thorin's hands. Blushing slightly, he passed the knife hilt first and stuffed his hands into his lap, debating whether or not to remind Thorin about his wounds. They weren't bleeding anymore, and they only hurt when he clenched his fists, so he decided against it and turned his attention to Thorin's hands.

It was evident that the Dwarf knew what he was doing; already the rough shape of an eagle was beginning to emerge under his practiced fingers. Bilbo watched in awe as his companion worked. Though he had known Thorin for quite some time, he had no idea the Dwarf was so adept at carving. His own efforts now seemed quite pathetic, and the blush around his pointed ears began to deepen.

Suddenly, a violent crack and a huge crash echoed through the trees, followed by an ear-splitting scream. Bilbo jumped to his feet, closely followed by Thorin, his carving completely forgotten.

"What on Earth was that?" Bilbo glanced up at Thorin, whose hand had instinctively jumped to Orcrist's hilt.

"I would say…a tree fell."

Bilbo rolled his eyes and took a few steps out into the fog.

"Well that's obvious. I meant the scream. Trees don't scream." Still quite shaken, the Hobbit turned to stare at his friend, a worried expression on his face. Thorin however, feigned indifference.

"It was probably an animal that was crushed by the tree. By the sound of that crack it was definitely large enough." Thorin made to sit back down, but Bilbo closed the distance between them in a flash and stuck his finger in the Dwarf-king's rather shocked face.

"Thorin Oakenshield! You know better than to say that was an animal! If that was an animal, then you're an Elf and I'm a newly instated Wizard!" Bilbo backed away and straightened up to his full height, casting a disgusted look in the Dwarf's direction. "That was a child if I've ever heard one, but by all means, stay here and believe it was a squirrel! I'm going to find the poor babe." He whipped around and began to storm away, but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. You are…right, of course…"

The Hobbit didn't turn around, but his heartbeat began to accelerate at the sound of Thorin's quiet voice. It was quite impossible for Bilbo to stay mad at this point, but he merely grunted his acknowledgement and pulled away from Thorin's touch. Though he would have preferred to stay put and, perhaps, drag some more sensitive words from the Dwarf, the child, who was hopefully still alive somewhere, was of more importance at the moment.

Starting off once again in the direction of the noise, Bilbo cursed the fog, hoping it would lift soon. If it persisted, it was likely they wouldn't be able to find the way back to their bags. These thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind however, as he tripped over a large bundle of branches.

"This must be the tree!" Bilbo struggled to regain his footing in the sea of branches, now quite frantic to find the child.

"Bilbo, slow down!" Thorin's voice was an aggravated growl as he prevented the Hobbit from falling once again by slinging an arm around his slim waist. "Have you ever thought this might be a trap? Gandalf has gone missing and-" The Dwarf was cut off by a particularly livid glare from Bilbo, who had finally made his way to the trunk of the tree.

"We're still in the confounded Shire!" The Hobbit's voice was shrill as he began to look wildly around the tree, still held in place by Thorin's arm around him. "I tell you, if you don't let me go I'll bite your arm off!"

The Dwarf-king sighed exasperatedly and put his arms up in a gesture of surrender, allowing the Halfling to resume his frantic searching. Though Bilbo could be quite infuriating at times, Thorin couldn't deny that seeing the Hobbit so fired up was rather…rousing. A small smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth, but they pulled into a frown as Bilbo, now concealed by a jagged stump that had barely remained in the ground when the tree had cracked, shouted at him.

"Come down here, Thorin!" Bilbo had found the child, who was sitting against the stump, crying quietly. The tiny face, which was partially hidden by the hood of an oversized cloak, turned upwards to face Bilbo. It was a Hobbit toddler, male, and seemingly no more than five or six years old, with blue eyes and shockingly red hair. This caused Bilbo's brow to furrow slightly; though not completely unheard of, it was quite rare to see a red haired Hobbit. Putting this aside, the grown Hobbit reached down to wipe the tears from the child's rosy cheeks.

"There there, little one. Everything is going to be okay, I promise…" Bilbo stood and gently lifted the youngster into his arms, balancing him on one hip as Thorin finally appeared from around the trunk.

"It seems this little guy has gotten himself quite a long way from home." A gentle smile spread over the Hobbit's face as the child's cold face nuzzled into his neck. Though Bilbo didn't have a great deal of experience with children, he had always enjoyed playing with all his little nieces and nephews at parties, and had babysat a few times in his younger days. "I guess we'll have to go back to Hobbiton and find his parents…"

To Bilbo's surprise, the youngling shook his head vigorously at this suggestion, and tiny hands clenched on the fabric of the larger Hobbit's cloak. Bilbo glanced down at the child, concern etched all over his face.

"What is it, darling? You don't want to go back home?" Bilbo looked up at Thorin, slightly distraught, as the child shook his head once again. "Well, why ever not? It's horribly dank and dreary out here. I'm sure your mother will be missing you…"

The child, it seemed, was either too scared or too shy to speak, but made a pitiful mewling noise and began to cry once again as Bilbo mentioned his mother. "Shush now, shush, darling…"

Thorin, who had been silent as the grave through all this, finally spoke.

"Well...apparently the little one wants to stay with you." Thorin shifted his weight to one foot and placed a hand on his hip, looking at the two Hobbits before him with an awkward, almost confused look plastered on his face. A child was completely unexpected, especially one so reluctant to go back where he came from, and Thorin had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to react. Though the king had dealt with his fair share of children; helping to raise Fili and Kili was a feat not to be scoffed at; but he had never even seen a Hobbit babe, let alone taken one on a long journey to who-knew-where.

"He can't stay with us! We don't even know where we're going!" It seemed however that the matter was already settled, as the child refused to be removed from Bilbo's hip. He did allow the fully grown Hobbit to remove the over-large hood and ruffle the downy, somewhat damp hair. Bilbo's gaze softened as he gazed at the little round face.

"Well…we definitely can't leave him here…" Bilbo lifted his chin slightly as the youngling snuggled into his neck once again. "His parents probably live on a farm or something along this road. We'll probably run into them soon enough. Don't you think?" The Hobbit's eyes began searching across Thorin's face, trying with all their might to find something there that would reveal the Dwarf-king's inner feelings. He highly doubted that Thorin would approve of having a child along on their little trip, but Bilbo would not leave the little one there all alone in the forest. A sigh escaped the Hobbit's lips as he tilted the youngster back to inspect his face once again.

"Well, what's your name, little one? We can't take you with us if we don't know who you are." Bilbo smiled encouragingly as bright blue eyes gazed up at him. Keeping one little arm around Bilbo's neck, the child raised the other hand to his mouth and began to chew his fingers shyly. "It's okay, darling, there's no need to be bashful around us. My name is Uncle Bilbo, and this is…Thorin."

The little Halfling turned to look at the Dwarf now, still sucking on his fingers. Thorin, unsure of how to react, waved and smiled. To his relief, the Hobbit-babe giggled shyly and removed his fingers, then looked back up at Bilbo before speaking quietly.

"Jango…"

Bilbo smiled and pulled the child to his chest once again, deciding he would try for a surname later.

"Well then, Jango, I suppose you can come with us. But you have to promise to behave! We're on a very dangerous and secret journey. Do I have your word?" The tiny Hobbit nodded energetically, his eyes twinkling at the thought of an adventure with his new companions.

"It's settled then!" Bilbo hitched the child higher on his hip and began to walk in the general direction of their campsite. He glanced back sheepishly to make sure Thorin was following.

"I sure hope Gandalf doesn't mind children…"


	9. Amazing Creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I got distracted by life. Sorry for the wait~!

Thankfully, the fog had begun to lift as Thorin and Bilbo had been conversing with their new companion, and finding the way back to their camp was not difficult. The morning sun stabbed through the previously thick mist, the golden daggers shredding the haze into tattered strips that disintegrated when touched. It was quite ethereal, and the pair tried to tread quietly, loath to break the mid-morning silence.

This temporary lull in conversation allowed Bilbo's mind to wander. It was strange, he thought, to find a child of any sort out in the middle of nowhere, and Hobbit mothers were especially vigilant with their children. Though they might be permitted to run and play in the copious fields and meadows that made of the main bulk of the Shire, they were always kept within eye or earshot of at least one respectable adult. However, it was apparent to Bilbo that no Hobbit mother was around little Jango, and it was doubtful that he had wandered that far on his own. Farms became more plentiful around the Brandywine Bridge, but that wasn't for tens of miles, a distance no Hobbit-babe could traverse on his own. There was also the matter of the tree falling; these trees were old and thick, and no small amount of force could cause one to crack like the one he and Thorin had investigated.

Though these events were troubling, Bilbo decided not to dwell on them. After all, it was shaping up to be a gorgeous morning, and there was no need to worry himself with such thoughts. A wonderful day of bright, clear sunshine and soft breezes was exactly what the Hobbit needed to clear his mind, and it couldn't hurt Thorin either. Bilbo snickered to himself as this thought popped into existence; yes, the stuffy Dwarf definitely needed some fresh air. Apparently being underground for so long had made Thorin permanently cranky when confronted with sunlight.

Before long, the small company was back underneath the large tree with their packs. Bilbo sighed heavily and set Jango back onto his own tiny, furry feet and began to gather wood for a fire. Thorin watched the two Hobbits from a few feet away, debating whether or not to speak. It seemed the Hobbits had already figured out their agendas; Bilbo was (obviously, being a Hobbit) going to make breakfast of some kind, and Jango was entertaining himself with the roughly carved eagle Thorin had dropped earlier. Even unfinished, the eagle's outstretched wings could almost touch both of the youngling's shoulders.

"Ah, here we go." Bilbo broke the silence first as a small flame leapt into life in the provisional fire pit. Taking a moment to rummage through his pack, he pulled out a small frying pan and a wax-paper package, which, when unwrapped, revealed many thick strips of bacon, several of which Bilbo threw into his pan. He covered the rest and put them back into his bag before pulling out two plump tomatoes.

"Nothing like tomatoes and bacon to get one ready for a day of journeying, if I do say so myself." A smile wormed its way onto Bilbo's face as he began to fry the bacon. "Thorin, would you slice those for me?" He made a vague gesture at the tomatoes. "I believe there's a plate or two in the front pocket of my bag." Thorin grunted to show he had heard.

There were, in fact, five plates stashed in Bilbo's bag; Thorin snorted as he saw them. What exactly did the Hobbit think they were up to, going on a Sunday stroll? Though they were still safe in the Shire now, Bilbo should know as well as any that the Road became rough beyond the borders of his lush, green home, and there was no need to bring five nice plates along for the trip.

Ignoring his own slight irritation at the naivety of Hobbits, Thorin did as he was told and began slicing the tomatoes with a kitchen knife he found stored with the plates. Though he would have been fine using his own small emergency dagger, which was currently safe in a hidden sheath in his boot, he doubted Bilbo would approve. Thorin was proud of the cleanliness of his weapons, but they were definitely not up to par with Hobbit cooking utensils.

By the time the Dwarf-king had finished with his tomatoes, the bacon was sizzling and popping fitfully above the fire. Jango had moved to Bilbo's side, eyeing the meat hungrily as he fingered the eagle now clasped against his thin chest. It appeared as though the young Hobbit hadn't eaten in quite awhile, which was indeed strange for a growing Hobbit boy. He didn't have to wait much longer however, as the bacon was soon plated beside the tomatoes.

"Now eat up, but don't make a mess! We don't have any spare clothes of your size with us, little one." Bilbo ruffled Jango's curly hair as he handed the boy a fork, smiling slightly as the child dug into his breakfast with gusto. He then turned and served Thorin, saving himself for last. This was one of Bilbo's customs, and he refused to break it; guests and friends were served first, without exception. That, the Hobbit thought as he bit into a slice of tomato, was the polite way of doing things.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Quite awhile later, once everyone was finished and the dishes were cleaned and stowed away neatly, Bilbo stood and stretched, ready to begin their walking for the day. Judging by the sun, it was maybe ten o'clock, and he was rather surprised Thorin hadn't started grumbling about breakfast taking too long. Of course, finding a Hobbit-babe had definitely changed their plans, so he supposed it wasn't that strange.

Glancing around for a moment to find the little Hobbit, Bilbo scooped Jango into his arms and planted a kiss on his head before passing him over to Thorin, who looked quite bewildered as to why he was suddenly responsible for the youngling. Bilbo just smiled as Jango buried his head into the crook of the Dwarf's neck, ready to take a nap after his large breakfast. He then proceeded to put out the fire and prepare their bags to make way. For some reason, Bilbo was attached to the child already; it seemed to Bilbo that the child needed love, and he was dying to know what had happened to the poor dear.

Thorin sighed as he felt Jango's tiny arms close around his neck. Though he was in no real mood to deal with young children, he had to admit that the little thing was cute, even if he was disturbing their plans. Now that he thought about it however, Gandalf had already thrown his own plans into disarray by vanishing into thin air, so there was no reason why Thorin shouldn't enjoy taking care of the Hobbit-babe. After all, without Gandalf, the pair didn't even know where they were supposed to be going.

The Dwarf-king was pulled away from these thoughts as Bilbo appeared in front of him and began gently scratching Jango's back. The little Hobbit mewled at being awoken and wriggled farther up onto Thorin's chest, using the Dwarf's jet-black hair as a curtain to protect against the sunlight filtering down through he leaves above them. Bilbo laughed and inadvertently raised a hand to touch Thorin's hair. He was somewhat surprised at what he felt; he had always imagined the Dwarf-king's unruly mane to be rather coarse and bristly, but in actuality it was silky and soft. His mind strayed from the situation at hand as he savored being so close to the Dwarf.

"Bilbo…"

The Hobbit started as Thorin's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. His eyes jumped up to meet the Dwarf's as he dropped his hand back down to his side. He could feel the familiar prickling feeling on the back of his neck, and prayed that the blush wouldn't rise to his cheeks.

"Er…we should probably be getting off soon…" Bilbo waved back to the packs sitting next to the blackened remains of the fire, but didn't dare move his eyes from Thorin's, afraid any change would break the wonderful tension he felt between the two of them. His pulse began to quicken; there was something strangely intimate about the Dwarf's smoldering stare, and Bilbo simply couldn't tear his own eyes away. The Dwarf paid no attention to the Hobbit's timorous words, instead taking the moment to lean closer to Bilbo and plant a firm, yet gentle kiss on his lips. Bilbo's eyes widened slightly and his fingers twitched as Thorin backed away; they had been itching to reach back up to Thorin's hair again, but the moment had ended too quickly.

Conveniently, Jango chose this moment to wake up once again and gently tug on one of Thorin's braids.

"Mr. Thorin, is his where you live? Under a tree?"

Thorin patted Jango's back lightly and broke eye contact with Bilbo, who slumped and bit his lip as the Dwarf turned away to pick up his pack with the hand was wasn't preoccupied with a Hobbit child.

"I don't live under a tree. I do however, live under a mountain." Thorin hoisted his pack onto his back and maneuvered Jango onto his other hip so as to put his other arm through the strap. "Maybe you'll see it one day." Jango nodded sleepily and repositioned himself, too tired to say much else.

Bilbo had his own pack on by this point, and was awkwardly looking around at anything but the Dwarf-king. His mind was spinning; maybe a kiss on the mouth was some sort of strange Dwarvish custom Bilbo knew nothing about… Perhaps Thorin had tripped…? Shaking his head slightly, the Hobbit finally looked up at Thorin and screwed up his courage to speak.

"It's…it's okay, this." Bilbo clamped his mouth shut as he heard his own voice; it was very small and shaky, and he really had no idea what to say. He gazed imploringly at the Dwarf, hoping for an escape from his discomfort. The last thing he wanted was for Thorin to think he was upset, but his mind was maddeningly blank. However, Thorin did indeed come to his rescue by smiling almost shyly as he walked by on his way to the nearby path.

"You know, Hobbits really are amazing creatures. And…I do believe Gandalf was a genius when he labeled you a burglar."


	10. How To Save A Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some trigger material in this one. Past abuse and general depressiveness.  
> (I don't particularly like this chapter, but it's here, so...)

Bilbo stood rooted to the spot for several seconds before whipping around and scampering after Thorin, blurting out questions all the while.

"Wait! What do you mean? What was that? Thorin Oakenshield, come back here!" Catching up quickly, the Hobbit ran in front of the Dwarf and crossed his arms, quite fed up will all the tiptoeing around. People don't just fall into kisses; there are reasons behind them, and Bilbo was ready to discover those reasons.

"I demand to know what's going on!" Bilbo stood up as straight as he could and stared up at Thorin, all hints of blush gone from his face. He raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms on his chest, tapping one furry foot lightly as he waited for the Dwarf's answer.

Thorin, who was rather nonplussed by the Hobbit's behavior, tilted his head and gazed questioningly at his friend. In his mind's eye, this scenario had gone much smoother; Bilbo would accept his gesture and move on, maybe blush a little and act sweet, and certainly not get confrontational. Slightly concerned that he had done something wrong, Thorin began glancing around, as if something in the scenery would tell him how he was supposed to answer the Hobbit's queries.

"I…er… Well, let's… Hmm." Sighing at his own incompetence in matters like this, Thorin met Bilbo's eyes and pursed his lips. "I enjoy your company, Bilbo Baggins, and I don't… I said what I said because-" Bilbo cut him off by raising a hand.

"I know why you said what you did. You said I must be a burglar because I 'stole your heart' or something to that affect, and I must say that's horribly cheesy, and I wish you would just speak your mind." Still retaining his irritated demeanor, Bilbo spun on his heel and started down the road before them. "However…" His voice was somewhat softer as he continued to speak, and there was a hint of well-concealed delight hidden in the quiet words. "I'm very glad to hear it."

Thorin began walking after the Hobbit at this point, his brain turned to some kind of unpleasant mush inside his skull. Thankfully, he was saved from commenting on Bilbo's words, as the Halfling decided he wasn't finished yet.

"And while we're on the topic of being cheesy… If I'm a burglar for stealing your heart, then you are the greatest king Middle-Earth has ever known for ruling mine."

After a brief moment of pondering Bilbo's words, Thorin smiled rather sheepishly, wishing he could see the Hobbit's face. Though his normal reaction would have been one of idiotic joy to find out that his friend returned his feelings, he was currently quite dumbstruck.

Amazingly, the Dwarf was rescued from speaking once again as Jango shifted in his arms.

"How do you live under a mountain? Wouldn't that hurt?" Pushing himself away from Thorin so he could see the Dwarf's face, Jango tilted his head slightly, bright blue eyes blinking sleepily as if his long eyelashes would fight away the mid-morning sunlight. Thorin's usual impassive expression jumped back onto his face as the boy spoke, though he was inwardly immensely relieved for the interruption.

"There are houses under the mountain-"

"But wouldn't a house get squished?"

"Err… They're built into the mountain. There are tunnels which the Dwarves dug long-"

"Tunnels in mountains? Aren't mountains made of rock? You can't dig in rocks, Mr. Thorin." Jango's eyes sparkled innocently from underneath his mop of red hair.

"Well…whoever told you that was wrong, child. Now go back to sleep, it's…late." Now quite flustered, Thorin patted the little Hobbit on the back and silently hoped that he would go back to sleep quickly. Though the Dwarf-king normally wouldn't have minded talking about his mountain realm, there were more pressing matters he needed to address.

"But it's not late at all… It's morning…"

Thorin closed his eyes slowly and sighed as Jango piped up once again. However, Bilbo decided it was time to intervene in the conversation, as he could almost feel the tension building inside his friend. He slowed his pace until he and Thorin were level, then removed the youngling and settled him on his hip in one swift movement. Jango giggled.

"So young man, what's your full name, hmm?" Bilbo had been rather curious about this; 'Jango' sounded like a nickname to him, and he was curious to know what Hobbit family the little one was from.

"I'm…Jangoric Brandybuck…" The child suddenly seemed to shrink in Bilbo's arms, as if he was afraid of some horrible consequences as a result of his actions. The older Hobbit rubbed his back encouragingly, concerned that Jango wouldn't want to talk anymore.

"That's a lovely name, dear… Many of my friends are Brandybucks. They're good Hobbits, if a little…queer in their ways." He was referring mainly to their dabbling in boats and things of the like; Hobbits simply did not belong on the water. "Now, how did you…end up out…" Bilbo trailed off, his brow furrowing as he felt Jango begin to quiver in his arms. He immediately stopped walking and pulled Jango closer, cursing himself as several sniffles reached his ears. Taking a moment to reposition the child so he could see the tear-streaked face, Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Jango's halting voice.

"My parents…thought I was bad luck…because of my hair…" He hiccupped and rubbed his eyes with two tiny fists, now sobbing uncontrollably. "They…they never want- wanted me… They swore…they said they would get rid of me eventually… They hate- hated me… My brothers and…sisters ignored me, and- and…" The child's voice finally failed as he buried his face into Bilbo's chest, heaving with irrepressible emotion. Bilbo, his eyes wide with apprehension and horror, glanced over to Thorin who was watching over his shoulder. It was inconceivable that Hobbits could do something like this to someone so helpless, so innocent… Though not so innocent, Bilbo thought; after enduring what this child had apparently gone through, what innocence could be left?

"They…they weren't nice…they beat me…"

Bilbo gasped openly at this. Though discipline wasn't unheard of in Hobbit families, there was absolutely no beating. That was barbaric, and most parents wouldn't stand for it. A tear slid down Bilbo's cheek now, though out of pity or anger he wasn't sure.

Jango took this moment to wriggle out of the larger Hobbit's arms, landing awkwardly on the road. After regaining his balance, he tugged his shirt off, still crying. Thick scars covered his back and chest, standing out in sharp relief against the creamy white skin. Bilbo clapped his hand over his mouth and fell to his knees, taking the shirt from Jango's hand before gathering the child to his chest.

"Baby…sweet baby… Hush now…" Bilbo placed a hand on the back of Jango's downy head, waiting patiently for the little Hobbit to cry himself into a lethargic state of calm. The child's voice was now little more than a hoarse whisper.

"I tried… I tried to…they found me and- and took me out and dropped me there… I was scared…so scared…"

Bilbo bit his lip, almost afraid to ask what the youngling had tried to do. The older Hobbit had always imagined the Shire as an idealistic society, a realm of peace and happiness, worlds away from the terror and injustice of the land outside its boundaries. He saw now that the Shire, his one and only home, was not safe from anger and bitterness, from the cruelness of those who would harm children for their own pointless ends. The same hopelessness he had felt the night before Thorin's most recent appearance at his doorstep began to creep into his heart once more; even the Shire could turn into a world where parents would do the unthinkable and children attempted to take their own lives.

"Sweetheart…" Bilbo stood shakily, wiping away his own tears before picking Jango up and holding him close. "You don't have to be afraid anymore… I've got you now… Sleep darling, it's okay…" The older Hobbit waited until the youngling's ragged breathing settled into a steady rhythm, then turned to Thorin, his jaw quivering just slightly.

The Dwarf-king had remained still and silent as a stone through the Hobbits' exchange. He had no more experience with abused and neglected children than Bilbo did, and was completely sure that he could not add to the Hobbit's words of consolation. Now that the little one was asleep however, Thorin turned his attention to the Hobbit he had unconsciously chosen to devote his life to. The pain and uncertainty he saw in Bilbo's eyes stabbed Thorin straight through his chest. He would have given anything for that look to disappear; if it was up to the Dwarf, his Hobbit would never be sad or despairing again, and seeing him like this excruciating.

No words came Thorin's mind as he gazed into Bilbo's eyes; he had never been good with words, so he gently pulled the Hobbit into a hug, being careful not to disturb the little one asleep on Bilbo's shoulder. He felt the Hobbit's hand ball into a fist at his side and, though Bilbo made no sound, Thorin knew he was crying.

"Bilbo… It's okay, sweetheart. You've saved a life today, and I can think of no great deed more worthy of praise."

The small hand at Thorin's side squeezed lightly; for once in his life, Thorin knew, he had said the right thing.


	11. Many Things, Most Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is happy and cute, hooray~
> 
> Double post to make up for the sadness of the last chapter.

While walking their share for the day, Bilbo and Thorin had discussed at length what to do about the child and had eventually chosen to observe him closely; he was young, after all, and young people had an amazing ability to bounce back from even the most horrid situations. Besides, Bilbo had thought, there were bad people, but never bad places. The youngling's family was probably a bad strain of Hobbits, maybe inbred or possibly even part Man. Though it was almost unheard of for Hobbits and Men to breed, it had happened in the past, and it was possible that it could have happened again. The offspring were usually shunned from normal Hobbit society, and were more often than not bitter and angry, inheriting more Man-like tendencies than the gentle nature of their Hobbit parent.

It was twilight before Jango began to stir from his emotion-induced stupor. Thorin was currently carrying the child, who yawned widely and stretched, blinking blearily as he looked around from the Dwarf's arms. Concerned that the little Hobbit wouldn't be able to sleep that night, Bilbo scooped him up for a moment before setting him down on the road. He was fairly sure Thorin would want to cover a bit more ground that day, and walking on his own would hopefully tire Jango enough to sleep through the night.

"Good evening, sleepyhead." Smiling as he took Jango's tiny hand, Bilbo slowed his pace slightly, and coughed pointedly as a signal for Thorin to do the same. The older Hobbit was rather miffed at his Dwarven friend; he had been enjoying Thorin being sweet and loving, but apparently the king could only uphold such a vulnerable visage for so long. His attitude had since regained its usual brusque sternness, which in Bilbo's mind wasn't the best for taking care of a delicate Hobbit child. However, he couldn't deny that the gruffness suited Thorin, and he would much prefer the Dwarf-king to stay the way he was than change completely to please anyone.

Jango said nothing as he walked, still drowsy from his hours-long nap. Bilbo began chatting amicably, hoping to keep up the little one's spirits, but received only nods or one word answers in return; perhaps, he thought, the child would sleep fine after all.

The Hobbit's chatter was soon cut short by a large hand clamping over his mouth. Bilbo's eyes widened in alarm and he shot a worried look up at Thorin, who motioned to the road before them. A tall, cloaked figure was approaching them, barely visible in the evening gloom. After tugging Thorin's hand away, Bilbo pushed Jango behind him and squinted at the figure, trying to discern who or what the thing might be. It was most certainly not a Hobbit. It was way too tall for even a dwarf, and seemed to be at least a head above most Men. It seemed strangely misshapen as well; the head was oddly pointed, and it was carrying what appeared to be a large walking stick.

"Thorin, its Gandalf!" Bilbo, ignoring the Dwarf's grumbles about Orcs invading the Shire, laughed at his own fear and hurried forward to meet the wizard, who materialized out of the darkness a moment later.

"I see you two took it upon yourselves to continue without me! Well, I suppose that was for the best. It would take another full day of walking for me to get back to- Hello? What's this?" Gandalf's brow furrowed slightly as he caught sight of Jango, who was cowering behind Thorin's legs. The Hobbit child had never seen any Big Folk, let alone one as tall and intimidating as Gandalf, and was very seriously debating running away and hiding. This thought came a little too late however, as Bilbo picked him up a second later and presented him to the wizard.

"This is…Jango." Bilbo refrained from using the child's full name; it had upset him earlier, and the older Hobbit did not want to deal with a crying youngling again. "We…found him in the woods and…decided to take him on an adventure with us…" An awkward smile crept onto Bilbo's face as Gandalf stared down at him. He was aware the story was a good bit less than sensible, but it was the best the Halfling could do until later, when Jango was asleep. Thankfully, the wizard caught on to his reluctance and placed his hands on his hips.

"So, you like adventure, little one?"

Jango cringed in Bilbo's arms but nodded shyly, slowly becoming acclimated to the wizard's menacing presence. Gandalf smiled jovially and patted the child's head before striding off to the side of the road.

"Well, that's good then. Now, it's high time for a hot dinner and some rest. Thorin, gather some firewood, would you?"

Thorin bristled as Gandalf took a seat under a large oak tree and pulled his pipe out from beneath his cloak.

"Gandalf, it's not even dark yet! We can still cover some distance tonight, and we certainly don't need a fi-"

"Thorin, you're taking care of a child now, you can't only think of yourself." The wizard laughed quietly as Bilbo tripped on his way down the bank, spilling Jango and himself onto the thick grass at Gandalf's feet. "And I believe our Hobbits can't see quite as well in the dark as you can. But you can put that ability to use by fetching firewood, yes?" Thorin growled, but stomped off in the opposite direction from Bilbo and Gandalf, who were both smoking and talking happily by the time he had disappeared into the sparse woods on the other side of the road.

Jango took this moment of peace to rummage around in Bilbo's pack for his eagle. Once it was found, he plopped down on the grass beside the older Hobbit and tugged on his sleeve lightly.

"Uncle Bilbo, when is Mr. Thorin going to finish this?" Jango held the carving out to Bilbo, who took it with a chuckle and began turning it in his hands.

"Well, I'm not really sure little one. You'll have to ask him when he gets back, won't you?" Jango nodded, a small smile lighting up his features. He didn't have long to wait, as Thorin could soon be heard trudging down the bank to where his friends were only just noticeable under the tree. It was completely dark by the time Gandalf had the fire lit, and the whole company, except maybe Thorin, was glad for its warmth and cheery light.

As Bilbo began to make supper, Jango crawled over to the still fuming Dwarf-king and held out his newly-proclaimed toy, hitching a sweet expression of expectation onto his face as Thorin glared down at him.

"Please Mr. Thorin, Uncle Bilbo said you would finish this when you came back…"

Thorin shot an aggravated glance at Bilbo, who held up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Now now, I said no such thing!"

Jango giggled at Bilbo's expression, pushed the eagle into Thorin's hand and stuck out his bottom lip, bright blue eyes sparkling innocently in the firelight. The Dwarf-king's gaze softened for a split-second and he sighed; even one as apparently hard-hearted as Thorin couldn't resist the yearning stare of a Hobbit-babe. He pulled his small hunting knife out of his boot and began carving, hiding a smile as Jango laughed and scrambled off attempt to climb Gandalf's staff.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Several hours later, around ten o'clock by Thorin's reckoning, Jango was fast asleep on the soft grass, Bilbo's traveling cloak draped over his thin shoulders and the now completed eagle lying at his side. Bilbo was nodding off as well, using Thorin's fur-lined cloak as a pillow as he gazed sleepily into the fire. The wizard and the Dwarf-king were talking in low voices; Bilbo couldn't discern any words over the crackling flames, so he gave in to sleep and was soon snoring quietly.

"-abused, Gandalf. We can't leave him here, and we certainly can't return him to his family!" Thorin's voice was a hiss as he leaned closer to the wizard, who was listening intently, chewing on his pipe which had gone out several minutes ago. He had now heard Jango's story, and was silently contemplating what to do with the child.

"Our journey won't be difficult for quite some time. We'll take him as far as Rivendell, but I doubt he'll leave from there. I cannot justify bringing a child along for this…trip." Gandalf grumbled several curses as he finally realized his pipe had snuffed out. Rummaging in his cloak for some fresh leaf, he continued to speak. "The road has gotten all the more dangerous since your last journey, and I can make no promises as to my involvement in this adventure. I am needed elsewhere, and will probably have to depart your company after we reach Rivendell."

Thorin's face seemed to darken as Gandalf mentioned the name, but he said nothing. There was no arguing with the wizard's plan; though he could imagine safer places for a young Hobbit than with scatterbrained Elves, he could not deny that it would be a kinder fate than forcing him to continue along the road. Better to be talked to death by flighty Elves than hacked to pieces by Orcs or Goblins.

"We will cross the Brandywine Bridge tomorrow morning, and we'll make a few stops to get clothes and whatnot for the little one on our way to Bree." Deciding that the conversation was over with those words, Gandalf leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. "Watch the fire, Thorin. We wouldn't want to burn down the Shire."

Thorin snorted at the wizard's words, but fixed his eyes on the flames nonetheless. He reached for his cloak, only to find an empty patch of grass where he had laid it a while previously. Glancing around, his eyes landed on Bilbo; he sighed and rested his chin on his hand, reluctant to wake the Hobbit up just to get his cloak back. After all, the little creature probably had more use for it than Thorin anyway.

The flames began to die down as the night wore on, and shadows crept into the small camp. Once he deemed the embers wouldn't ignite anything else, Thorin pulled out his bedroll and settled down, taking one last look at Bilbo's sleeping face before drifting off himself.

The night passed quietly and calmly, much like most things in the Shire. Most things, but not all.


	12. The Bad Side of Hobbits

The King Under the Mountain woke slowly, groaning as he pulled the fur blankets closer around himself. Though Thorin was generally a lighter sleeper than many of his Dwarven relatives and usually woke rather easily, something about that particular morning just didn't agree with him. His eyelids crept up gradually, almost sinking back down before he smelled what could only be Bilbo making breakfast. The Dwarf sat up straight at this and glared in the direction of the fire. Bilbo was never awake before him.

The Hobbit had, in fact, been awake for almost an hour, conversing with Gandalf and entertaining little Jango before beginning to make breakfast. He had thought it strange for Thorin to sleep longer than him and had considered waking him prematurely, but the old wizard had talked him out of it, reminding Bilbo that even hardy Dwarves needed a good night's sleep every now and then.

"Good morning, Thorin." Bilbo glanced up as he spoke, but turned his eyes back to his cooking after seeing the look on his Dwarven companion's face. He could never really tell what was going on behind those stormy blue eyes; it looked, for all intents and purposes, like the king was angry with him. Of course, Thorin always looked like he was furious at something. Perhaps it was just the way he was born, always angry or annoyed with the world. In truth, Bilbo couldn't remember a time when Thorin was completely cheerful and carefree, and, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. It was the brooding, contemplative aspect of the Dwarf-king's personality that had first caught Bilbo's attention, and, though he enjoyed seeing Thorin happy, he didn't think he could let go of that mystery. It almost made him feel guilty at times; Thorin had a right to happiness, as much as any other creature, and it wasn't Bilbo's place to deny him that, no matter how much his usual aura of dark majesty suited him.

"Bilbo!" The Hobbit snapped his head up as Thorin stood and shouted at him. He had been completely lost in his thoughts, and breakfast was beginning to burn.

"Er, yes, sorry. I was...thinking." The Hobbit waved away Thorin's skeptical gaze and threw some salt in the pan before him. He honestly didn't feel like talking to the Dwarf at that moment; Bilbo liked stability, and apparently, with his constantly changing moods, Thorin couldn't provide that. Though he was aware he was being hypocritical, he was well beyond caring after putting up with the Dwarf's inconsistencies.

Thorin, after taking several seconds to stare at the Hobbit, just shook his head and began to pack away his bedroll. He had come to the conclusion that there was simply no dealing with Hobbits, and he certainly wasn't going to try this morning.

Gandalf, sensing the somewhat random tension between the two, sighed as he began to eat the sparse breakfast that Bilbo practically threw at him. He suddenly regretted coming back to the pair; it was going to be a long day.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Thorin had had no desire to wait around, so it was barely a half an hour before breakfast was cleaned up and everyone was back on the road again. Jango was walking on his own this time, scampering here and there and playing in the tall weeds on the side of the road. He seemed to have completely forgotten the previous day's drama, and was, to Bilbo's delight and relief, as joyful and lighthearted as any normal Hobbit child. The older Hobbit could only hope the little one would grow up to be just as normal, and wouldn't have any lasting effects from his horrible childhood.

The morning passed quickly; the companions had soon crossed over the Brandywine Bridge, and were busy looking for any roadside markets that would serve as their last supply stop until Bree. There were no more towns to be spoken of until Bree, and very few after that, but bustling markets near frequently used roads were common in the Shire, especially in spring and summer. It was shaping up to be another lovely day, so Bilbo had no doubts that they would run into a market sooner or later.

It seemed the Hobbit's intuition was as sharp as ever; around three o'clock that afternoon the small company stumbled upon a rather large market sprawled about in a crop of trees. Bilbo found this to be rather strange; they were near the edge of the Old Forest, and most Hobbit folk tended to stay away from trees altogether so close to that ominous landmark. In fact, this particular clump of trees seemed to extend all the way into the forest, like a strange peninsula engulfing the road. Bilbo had never ventured into the forest himself, but had heard enough stories to know that most people who wandered under those leaves never returned.

Wary of the kind of Hobbits one might find in such an inauspicious place, Bilbo gathered Jango to him and picked him up as Gandalf stopped to survey their surroundings.

"Well, this seems as good a place as any." The wizard glanced down at his companions, icy blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Bilbo, if you'll give the little one to Thorin – don't give me that look, I'm sure _His Majesty_ is capable of handling a young Hobbit – I would appreciate if you would come with me. I have a little…task for you."

Now even more leery of this whole situation than before, Bilbo sighed deeply before handing Jango over to Thorin and padding along behind the old wizard.

"Gandalf, what exactly-"

"Never you mind, Bilbo Baggins. You'll see soon enough."

They soon left the road and disappeared into the trees, leaving Thorin quite displeased. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing; Gandalf hadn't even left him a list of supplies they needed. Muttering curses under his breath, the Dwarf-king hitched the little one farther up on his hip and began to wander around, ignoring the puzzled glances he received every so often.

Just as he had stopped to inspect some impressive woven rugs, Thorin felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He whipped around immediately, almost knocking over the stand in his haste. The hand that wasn't holding Jango jumped to Orcrist's hilt, which was situated over his right shoulder.

The Dwarf slowly began to relax and tilted his head as he saw his supposed aggressor, who was shrouded in a long grey cloak. The hood was pulled around the person's face, but from what Thorin could see, it didn't look like a Hobbit. Hobbits very rarely reached four feet tall, but this one was practically Thorin's height, and the bare feet, which stuck out from underneath the cloak, weren't particularly large or hairy. Any more contemplation of the thing's species was cut off, however, as a pair of thin hands reached out from the folds of the cloak and pulled down the hood. Sunken black eyes glared at Thorin from beneath a mop of greasy dark hair, and, when the thing spoke, its teeth were rotten.

"What are you doing with my son, Dwarf?" The creature, which Thorin now assumed was some kind of crossbreed between a Hobbit and a Man, reached out for Jango, who shrank into Thorin's chest and whimpered, his eyes wide with fear. The Dwarf-king's face distorted as he heard the youngling's pitiful noises; no child should make sounds like that when confronted with their own parents. Blind fury began to well up in his chest and his hand reached back up to Orcrist's hilt, pulling the sword slowly from its scabbard. Several nearby Hobbits squeaked and scrambled away from the shining blade.

"I asked you a question, Dwarf. Why do you have my-"

"So…" Thorin's voice was quiet, but full of cold malice. "You're the scum who abandoned this child to die in the forest, eh?" With one deft motion, he flicked Orcrist up to the half-Hobbit's throat, smiling unsympathetically as the color began to drain from the thing's face. "Tell me why I shouldn't behead you right here and now for such an atrocity?"

"Thorin!"

The Dwarf-king glanced in the direction of Bilbo's voice, but didn't remove his sword from the half-Hobbit's throat.

"What on earth do you think you're-"

"This is the little one's father."

Bilbo stopped dead in his tracks at this, a look of pure disgust slowly creeping onto his face. Scowling darkly, he stomped up to the two and pushed Thorin's sword aside, shoving his finger into the half-Hobbit's shocked face.

"How _dare_ you abandon such a sweet little child! What justification could you _possibly_ have that would make that acceptable, you…you…" Apparently overcome with anger and unable to finish his sentence, Bilbo took a deep breath and punched the half-Hobbit square in the nose with every ounce of strength he could muster. The thing staggered back, clutching his now bleeding nose with both hands. "Get away from here and _never_ come back! You don't deserve to live in the Shire; you don't deserve to live at all!" The half-Hobbit had had enough at this point; he pushed his way through the small crowd that had gathered around the scene, apparently scared that the aggressive little Hobbit would act on his last statement.

Once Jango's father was out of sight, Bilbo slumped his shoulders and gazed around sheepishly, rather cowed by all the eyes now upon him. Thankfully, the crowd soon dispersed, with some mutterings of 'it's about time' and 'good for him'. Apparently the half-Hobbit and his wife had been causing some trouble around there recently, and many of the nearby residents were pleased to finally see him get his comeuppance.

Bilbo now turned to Thorin, whose eyebrows were slightly raised, Orcrist hanging limply at his side. He relinquished Jango to the Hobbit's arms and sheathed his sword, shaking his head at Gandalf as the wizard approached.

"What happened here?" Gandalf seemed rather flustered and irritated that Bilbo had ran off without notifying him, and shot the Hobbit a disapproving glare that was ignored as Bilbo made sure the young one was okay.

"Well," said Thorin, "I believe our burglar has decided to be a bit more assertive." He gazed at the Halfling, duly impressed with his actions. Even after their previous adventure, Thorin still saw Bilbo as gentle and soft-spoken, and was always pleasantly surprised when the Hobbit did something that challenged that. Ignoring the wizard's demands for an explanation, the Dwarf-king leaned closer to Bilbo, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"Bilbo, please remind me to stay on your good side in the future."

The Hobbit laughed out loud and nuzzled his face into Jango's downy hair, gradually coming down from his adrenaline high.

"I'll do that…though I don't think you have to worry. You're usually fairly docile, I believe." Bilbo glanced up at Thorin, a mischievous smile lighting up his features as the Dwarf-king took his turn to laugh.

Gandalf, who was quite fed up with being disregarded, scowled and began to march back to the road, grumbling about the obstinacy of Dwarves and Hobbits alike. Bilbo giggled at this and beamed up at Thorin for a split-second before walking after the wizard.

The Dwarf-king simply shook his head once again, smiling inwardly as he tossed a few coins onto the stand he had nearly upended. At least, Thorin thought, he would never get bored around Mr. Baggins.


	13. Necessary Deeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back~ For now. c:

As it was apparently impossible to get anything done with Bilbo and Thorin in tow, Gandalf sent them to the edge of the forest and away from the market, still fuming about being interrupted. He had had an important task for Bilbo, but the Hobbit was rather shaken at the moment, and would probably be of little use. Though Gandalf could get all the supplies and information he needed fairly easily on his own, it would have been more convenient for Bilbo to have helped him. The old wizard cursed his luck; perhaps agreeing to take the little one with them was a bad idea after all.

"Unlucky, possibly," Gandalf muttered to himself. "But nonetheless unavoidable."

XxX

Meanwhile, Thorin and Bilbo had left the trees behind and were sitting down for a late lunch. Both Hobbits were pleased by this; Jango was young, but even he had heard strange tales about the Old Forest, and mealtime was always a welcome time for Hobbits.

"Well, it's a little late for luncheon, so I suppose we'll call this afternoon tea." Bilbo smiled and rubbed his stomach, which growled unhappily. "I'd probably start eating myself if- Mmph!"

The Hobbit suddenly found himself pulled up to his feet, a grimy hand clamped over his mouth. He instinctively clawed at the limb holding him, but to no avail. A cold prick at his throat made Bilbo's eyes widen; a knife certainly wasn't necessary.

Thorin had jumped up immediately when Bilbo had been grabbed. The culprit, who was none other than Jango's father, still dripping blood from his broken nose, had crept from the bushes behind Bilbo, completely hidden and silent. Orcrist was in Thorin's hand in a flash, but the Dwarf lowered it slightly when he saw the flash of silver under the Halfling's chin. Growling deeply, he pushed the terrified Jango behind him and straightened to his full height.

Thorin's face was twisted in an ugly scowl as he gazed at the scene before him. After ensuring that there was nothing he could do without seeing Bilbo's throat slit open, the Dwarf-king lowered his eyes to meet the Hobbit's; they were scared, but there was also a hint of cunning there, as though Bilbo was devising a strategy to remedy his situation. Deciding the best plan of action was to stall for time, Thorin fingered Orcrist's hilt as he dropped the weapon to his side.

"What do you want, half-breed?"

Jango's father laughed evilly, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine.

"We've already been over this, Dwarf. I want my child back, and you are going to hand him over one way or another."

Thorin simply shifted his weight to one foot and raised an eyebrow.

"I see… If you want him back so badly, why did you abandon him in the first place?"

Bilbo, who was ignoring the conversation, had finally succeeded in easing his hand into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers caressed the warm gold they found there; he was now quite grateful he had decided to bring the ring along with him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Bilbo slipped the ring onto his finger and disappeared.

The half-Hobbit, who was extremely taken aback by his captive vanishing into thin air, shouted as he felt his hands being pushed away. He grasped at the space where he believed the Hobbit to be, but missed by a long shot and fell to the ground as he received another, this time invisible, punch to the side of his face. Bilbo resisted the urge to kick the pathetic creature and looked around hurriedly for Thorin. It was difficult to get his bearings in the graying world of the Ring, but he soon found the Dwarf-king and ran behind him before pulling off the Ring and stowing it safely back in his pocket.

Visible once again, Bilbo picked Jango up and began to walk backwards, a sickened expression flashing over his face as he watched Thorin. Orcrist was gleaming with excitement as the Dwarf advanced on Jango's father, who was still lying in the dust.

"You are perhaps the most-"

Bilbo pushed Jango's face into his chest and turned to walk away, suddenly feeling rather nauseous. The half-Hobbit had lunged at Thorin with his short knife, leaving a deep gash on the Dwarf's exposed cheek before being beheaded in one swift stroke of the Goblin-cleaver. The disembodied head rolled into the ditch beside the road, soon followed by the body as Thorin pushed it roughly with his feet. Taking a moment to wipe Orcrist on the grass; he would clean it properly later; the Dwarf-king sheathed the blade and took several calming breaths before striding up behind Bilbo.

"Is it hidden?" Bilbo's voice was quiet, but steeled against the brutality of the necessary deed. Though it probably would have been possible to subdue the thing without killing him, he would have inevitably followed them and caused even more trouble later.

"Yes, it's gone. Gandalf and I will…dispose of it later, I suppose."

Bilbo nodded and walked down to the grass on the opposite side of the road, getting a fair distance away before sitting and allowing Jango to flop onto his lap.

"Is…is he gone…?" Jango's wide, blue eyes stared up at Bilbo, the little eyebrows turned upwards in fear. The older Hobbit smiled and nodded; though he never advocated the killing of living creatures, it was sometimes required, and this was one of those cases. He considered it justified; the half-breed had, in a sense, murdered Jango's true childhood, and had now received the final penalty.

Bilbo glanced up at Thorin as he sat down across from the two Hobbits. He placed the packs, which he had grabbed before following Bilbo, beside him and shrugged Orcrist from his shoulders.

"You're bleeding, Thorin."

The Dwarf-king glanced up and wiped his cheek, shrugging slightly.

"It's only a scratch. It will be gone by tomorrow morning."

Bilbo furrowed his brow skeptically and rolled his eyes, gently pushing Jango off his lap. The little Hobbit giggled as he spilled onto the grass, seemingly unaffected by the adults' disquieted mood. The child was rather spacey, Bilbo had found, and didn't dwell on things for very long. He had his own way of thinking, and the older Hobbit respected that, but it was a little unsettling at times.

Crawling over to the packs at Thorin's side, Bilbo reached into a side pocket and pulled out a freshly pressed white cloth and an earthenware bottle. Ignoring Thorin's cynical stare, the Hobbit uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount of the clear liquid inside onto the cloth.

"This is a healing tonic that has been passed down in my family for generations. It's usually used for little Hobbits' scrapes and bruises, but I believe it will work quite nicely in this case." Bilbo knelt in front of Thorin and held out the cloth, popping the cork back into the bottle with his free hand. "This might sting a bit," he warned, his voice a low murmur.

Thorin drew in a sharp breath as the medicine touched his oozing wound, flinching away just slightly from Bilbo's hand.

"A bit?" His voice was a hissing whisper. Bilbo shushed him with a sharp tap to the Dwarf's uninjured cheek.

"Just hold still, I'll be done in a half a minute." The Hobbit proceeded with his work, gently removing the dried blood and cleaning the wound as Thorin sulked. Once finished, Bilbo sat back to survey his handiwork; the cut was beginning to swell and looked pretty nasty, but Bilbo knew that Dwarves healed quickly. Though he doubted the wound would be gone the next morning, it certainly would be on its way.

"There, that wasn't so bad. Though I suppose I'll have to throw away this rag… Good thing I brought extras." Bilbo turned away and popped the bottle back into its place before folding up the cloth and setting it on top of his bag. "I suppose you can do away with that as well while you're…cleaning up later."

The Hobbit then turned his attention back to Jango, who was absentmindedly braiding several long stalks of grass. Bilbo joined him, relaxing on his stomach as he struck up a childish conversation with the youngling.

Thorin watched, his face stony mask against the emotions roiling inside him. Though he was well aware that he had had no other option than to kill the half-breed, he almost felt as though he had defiled the sanctity of the Shire by doing so. It was such a peaceful, homey place, unused to bloodshed and death, and the Dwarf-king felt guilty for bringing such dark presences into the Shire. He was pulled away from these thoughts, however, by Bilbo's hushed voice.

"Thorin… I must ask…"

The Dwarf took a deep breath through his nose, greatly opposed to answering any Hobbit-like questions at the present moment.

"What did you mean by…kissing me?" Bilbo kept his soft blue eyes focused on the youngling before him, but watched Thorin with his peripheral vision. The Dwarf remained still as the stone his ancestors were born from, his expression as impassive as ever. "I don't mean to be…forward, but I must-"

"You would do well to forget that gesture, Bilbo." Thorin kept his eyes locked on the ground, refusing to look at the Hobbit. "I was acting purely on impulse; I was out of line, and I apologize."

Bilbo sat up and turned to Thorin, a hurt expression on his generally cheery face. His eyebrows descended into a deep 'V' as he crossed his arms, apparently ready to give the King Under the Mountain the lecture of his life.

"I don't understand you, Thorin Oakenshield. You're all over the place; you're kissing me one minute and ignoring me the next! I'm quite tired of it, and I wish you would just speak your mind. We Hobbits are simple minded creatures, and I do not appreciate having to sort through your feelings as well as my own-"

Finally deciding that enough was enough, Thorin sat up straight and turned his icy gaze to Bilbo, who closed his mouth with an audible snap. After ensuring the Hobbit wouldn't interrupt, Thorin relaxed somewhat and sighed.

"If you want to know the truth, Bilbo Baggins, I…I would like to…" Thorin looked to the heavens as he sought for the words, as if hoping some divine intervention would offer him assistance. When no dove bearing helpful hints drifted from the clouds, Thorin closed his eyes and rested his chin on his hands, eventually choosing the most direct route to state his thoughts.

"Courting rituals in Dwarven culture are rather prolonged and complicated, and, though you are not a Dwarf, if we were to…be…together, then I wish to follow those customs. However, the road is not the best place, and I would like to…have you be…comfortable and preferably in my hospitality while that…happens." Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and began examining a large beetle crawling at his feet like it was the most interesting thing he had ever laid eyes on. He had had enough chatting about his feelings for one day, and he could feel the back of his neck, which was mercifully hidden by his hair, turning a deep red.

Bilbo found himself stunned by this confession. He certainly hadn't been expecting…well, anything to that effect, and wasn't sure how to feel. After several moments of careful consideration, he settled on pleasantly surprised.

"Alright then." He perked up and smiled crookedly, still a little dumbstruck. "But…if I may ask-"

"No, Bilbo. No you may not."

A quiet laugh slipped past the Hobbit's lips.

"Fine, fine… Have it your way then."


	14. More Questions than Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there~ This is mostly filler, but is also mostly necessary. c:

The afternoon passed slowly, in stoic silence, as the three companions awaited Gandalf's return. It was at this time that Bilbo suddenly remembered his hands; they were still wrapped in Thorin's bandages, though the crisp, white linen was now dingy with use. The excitement of the past few days had driven the scrapes from his mind, but he had been unconsciously scratching the skin around the wrappings every so often. Feeling rather silly for leaving the bandages on for so long, Bilbo began to unwind them, discarding the strips on top of his pack with the soiled rag. The skin underneath was slightly pale and thin scabs still marred his palms, but there was no pain, and the scabs didn't hinder his movement. Pleased with this, the Hobbit turned to his Dwarven friend, smiling surreptitiously as he saw the distant, irritated look on Thorin's face.

The Dwarf-king was paying no attention to the two Hobbits, engrossed as he was in his own thoughts. He was annoyed that he had to reveal himself to Bilbo, and angry at himself for getting into that situation in the first place. He was a king, after all; he should have more self-control than to act on inane desires out of the blue. The greater part of his life had been spent providing for his people and making sure their needs were met, and he wasn't yet used to thinking of his own wishes as anything more than flights of fancy that held no significance.

But, as he brooded over his predicament, Thorin grudgingly began to accept his new position. The Dwarves of Erebor had their home back, and were being taken care of by his capable (he assumed) nephews and others of the original company. Was it not time for him to start thinking of himself? His nephews had told him to take the free time that came with the journey Gandalf had offered to unwind and do what he wanted for once.

Ignoring Bilbo's raised eyebrow as he snorted and began grumbling to himself, Thorin stood, grabbed the dirty rags from the Hobbit's pack and stalked up to the road, wishing Gandalf was there to save him from his thoughts. Action had always been Thorin's strongpoint; he was ill-suited for change and dealing with emotions, as he had proven beyond doubt throughout his time with Bilbo.

"Thank Aulë…"

Conveniently, Gandalf chose that moment to materialize from beneath the overhanging trees, looking every bit as aggravated as Thorin felt. Deciding it would be better for the wizard to hear about what had occurred earlier before stumbling across the body, the Dwarf hurried to Gandalf's side and began speaking quickly.

Meanwhile, Bilbo had been watching Thorin closely, yearning to ask what his friend had been thinking about. He hadn't been so curious as to disturb the Dwarf's peace though; he knew that his 'Hobbit-ish questions' as Thorin called them irritated the king to no end. However, these inquiries were pushed to the back of his mind as he looked up to see Thorin approaching with Gandalf. The wizard was bent slightly, listening intently as the Dwarf-king presumably explained why there was a beheaded half-Hobbit lying in the adjacent roadside ditch.

Apparently, the pair had elected to dispose of said body immediately, as Gandalf dropped the sack of supplies he was carrying at Bilbo's feet and followed Thorin to the grizzly scene. Shuddering in spite of himself, the Hobbit took his mind off of his friends' task by inspecting what the wizard had gathered in the market. There were several sets of clothes for Jango; though Bilbo doubted he would change often during the journey, the child would need clothing for Rivendell, and there was no telling what kinds of messes the little one could get into on their way there. Along with the clothes were many apples, some packages of herbs, a relatively large packet that smelled strongly of Longbottom Leaf, and even a small roll of sausages.

After taking several minutes to empty the sack and deposit the supplies into the packs, Bilbo sat back down beside Jango, who was still braiding grass, and balled up the empty bag. He stopped and pulled the bag back open however, as he felt something small and hard in the bottom. Tipping the sack upside-down, Bilbo shook it several times before being rewarded with a tiny box that fell into his outstretched hand. The box was covered in unassuming brown paper and tied with similarly dull twine, but the Hobbit felt drawn to it, and would have unwrapped it if Gandalf had not cleared his throat loudly a second later.

"I'll take that, Bilbo Baggins." The Hobbit jumped as the wizard snatched the package from his hands, now terribly curious as to what the box might hold. He gazed longingly at it for a moment, but tore his eyes away as he felt an insistent tug on his sleeve.

"Look what I made, Uncle Bilbo!" The older Hobbit's eyebrows slowly rose as he examined the little woven basket that Jango shoved into his hands. Just large enough to hold a chicken egg, the basket was surprisingly well made, with two little dandelions perched where the handle connected with the rim. Holding it gingerly, Bilbo looked down at Jango, who was lying on his back beside his adopted uncle.

"It's lovely, darling! How did you learn to do this?"

"Someone taught me." The child smiled innocently up at the larger Hobbit and shrugged. Bilbo laughed, but tilted his head slightly; it couldn't have been Jango's parents who had taught him, and he was genuinely interested in who would take the time to teach such a young child how to weave baskets of all things.

"Yes, well…who, then?"

"Someone I met," Jango said happily, obviously pleased with his creation as he picked it up by the braided handle and sat it on his chest. Bilbo, slightly miffed with his little companion, crossed his arms over his own chest and resolved to press Jango for the full answer later, possibly with a dose of tickle-torture…

The Halfling was pulled from his thoughts for the umpteenth time that day as Thorin walked up alongside Gandalf, still settling his pack onto his shoulders.

"Move along, Mr. Baggins. It's time we got moving."

A grin cracked involuntarily across Bilbo's face as he stared up at the Dwarf-king. Though Thorin was still intimidating and mysterious in the Hobbit's eyes, that vision was now joined by another, one of the Dwarf as confused and grumpy, and irrefutably, if unintentionally, charming. Laughing out loud at the disgruntled look on Thorin's face, Bilbo got to his feet and shouldered his pack, content to let his questions go unanswered for the moment.


End file.
